As we're driving back to the warehouse, I remain silent, thinking about my parents and their whereabouts. I can't help but picture them hurt, the image of the blood in their bedroom stained inside my mind. I don't think I'll ever be rid of that image and the feeling of fear that followed it right after.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Woody says softly, turning to look at me. I shuffle in the passenger seat, rotating my body slowly to look at him.
"I'm thinking about my parents. . . The kind of life they lived before I was born. They experienced danger twice the amount that I have in the last few weeks and that must be terrifying." I say quietly, turning to focus my gaze on the streets whizzing past me in the window.
"It's left an impression on you, hasn't it? Everything you've been through lately." Woody states, his words spoken in a low tone. A silence settles upon us, the only sounds of the soft clicking and whirring of the car as Woody drives.