Author: Jessica Pryce PM
-FF- It took a week for Casey Todd to die. Blood loss, fatigue, and most of all, shock. But she hadn't meant to kill him. Not at all. He'd had a lifetime of nightmares yet to live through. And now she was in jail for a murder that shouldn't have happened.Rated: Fiction M - English - Crime/Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,549 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 08-23-08 - Published: 07-05-08 - id: 2541087
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This story is DARK. It is not very happy, it is not very nice, and bad things happen. It follows the psychological and physical torture of a man, and is not intended for immature readers.
This is the only warning you get.
I have done things that I am not proud of
I have done things that I am not proud of. I have done few things that I am proud of.
If I did good, my intentions were wrong. If they were right, then I must be dreaming. I look into the mirror and I am disgusted with myself.
I open my mouth to speak yet I can't close it fast enough. It is a one-way road to oblivion with no shoulder to take a break on. I wonder if we don't all hate to play our own part.
We do it in part because we can and in part because everyone expects us to.
Maybe we cannot switch parts, so maybe we should just be the best at our part that we can be.
Revel in your weaknesses and be joyous in your failures if they are expected and stay the same person you are.
Don't take hospitality but offer it often and maybe people will expect it from themselves, too.
Temple of the Egyptians, Aztecs, everyone needs a home and everything needs a home, but where is mine?
Gun firing in my eyes, and the speed of that bullet is measured so easily.
I was brought too quickly to evil. A victim should know this. Perhaps the people of the world thought of as victims really aren't victims.
They just like to complain but they have chosen the work that they have chosen.
Holds in a station, my soul mate or a stolen car or a sewage-covered handgun.
Do they even really matter to me? I think about them so rarely now.
They consumed me back then, whenever I wasn't consumed with myself.
Maybe if I didn't know when I was being selfish, I would be less selfish, because I wouldn't be thinking about myself and my own selfishness. It is stupid, and my past seems about as alive as...
The time being...
I sit here, thinking about the future.
The future of mankind and the world, wondering if evidence is really enough to change the future when that future has been so carefully planned out, in mind-numbing detail.