As soon as I realized what I was going to have to do, I immediately didn’t want to do it. It was practically suicidal, anyways. So no.

I sighed and glared at the big, stupid, fat, rock. Why could I get no answers!!? I breathed in through my nose and noisily exhaled through my mouth. I could, but yet again, it was suicidal. People said you could only go once. That should you go back the Smoke would… I shuddered. My fingers wound in my overgrown hair and the toe of my tattered shoe gently keeping rhythm against the hot rock, I finally decided what I was going to do. Because, hell, there wasn’t anything else to do.
I guess sometimes you have to go back, to go forward.