We can't be here anymore.
Too many raw wounds, too few places to run to. It's a small island when you're travelling all over it. Lianne's in a pretty deep grave, but it'll get discovered, and we could do without the hassle.
We're headed to America. We have the money, tucked away for such an occasion. Roland just gruffly tells us not to worry about it, but that's a story for another time. Either way, we figure there's people who can help in America. Now, we just have to get back to the car and drive to Gatwick, then get tickets and board. No idea where we're landing or what we'll do. Just...we need more places to run to. And what we're running from is pretty wearing.
We're falling apart. We need a new beginning.