Maybe It's Me...?
Mugshot.
Teddy fell to the floor once more, his face bruised and beaten as he called for help, desperately trying to find a way out.
“You are one sick fuck,” another kick, this time to the crotch.
He could hardly last for much longer…
Dan had had no choice in the matter as he stumbled upon the foul stench of death within the kitchen he’d planned on dining in. What responsibilities could he ignore in order to save his brother? There were too many to argue with in the great myth we call ‘reality’; he had no choice and Teddy knew this as well as his younger sibling did.
The evidence was unbelievable as two victims were placed upon him, as he literally got away with murder of the man whose name he could hardly remember anymore.
Why plead innocent, when you’re willing to accept you’re guilty?
“You, man, you deserve to rot in hell.”
The hate he could handle, but the violence did not help a thing. Solitary confinement was the hope he dreamed of, but he could not stay in isolation nor the hospital ward forever.
Another kick, the temple bleeding in a silent protest.
No appeals, no nothing; did it matter? It was over and there was no other way to say it or live it.
His final breath; hardly more dignified than that of his victims.
“You are one sick fuck,” another kick, this time to the crotch.
He could hardly last for much longer…
Dan had had no choice in the matter as he stumbled upon the foul stench of death within the kitchen he’d planned on dining in. What responsibilities could he ignore in order to save his brother? There were too many to argue with in the great myth we call ‘reality’; he had no choice and Teddy knew this as well as his younger sibling did.
The evidence was unbelievable as two victims were placed upon him, as he literally got away with murder of the man whose name he could hardly remember anymore.
Why plead innocent, when you’re willing to accept you’re guilty?
“You, man, you deserve to rot in hell.”
The hate he could handle, but the violence did not help a thing. Solitary confinement was the hope he dreamed of, but he could not stay in isolation nor the hospital ward forever.
Another kick, the temple bleeding in a silent protest.
No appeals, no nothing; did it matter? It was over and there was no other way to say it or live it.
His final breath; hardly more dignified than that of his victims.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry, I got a little sick of this story so I wanted to kill it off in one way or another…