Different colored minds

Alone again

STEVEN POV

My leg is gone, it's the same leg that Joe lost. I'm alone, chained to the bed, police men outside of the door, a hoard of people wanting to kill me on the other side. I turn my head so I don't have to see all the faces. It's not like I haven't experienced hate before, I wouldn't have done something so drastic if they didn't choose to say such drastic things. But I don't think I made them pay. I don't think they'll ever learn. I'm alone again. Jeremy is dead. We had planned to meet up together in the end and shoot each other, but somehow something went wrong. I guess that means for the rest of humanity something went right.

We had set up four bombs in the four corners of the cafeteria, only one went off. But it was enough to give panic. It's so strange now looking back. I know a piece of me should care, should be able to care, but it's not there. It's cold in my soul, a gap of time free of emotions, and strife. It doesn't feel like it was me. It feels surreal. Like surely, someone else did it.

The walls here feel real though. They feel solid, unlike my life lately. I guess for some reason God is making me live on. I don't know why, he's supposed to punish the wicked. I'm the wicked scum in his eyes, I'm sure. What I did was deplorable. He'll never take me now. He won't want me. No one wants me now. They all want me dead, somehow to make me atone for what I've done. And I'll never be able to say why. They won't listen. Because what I did was so much worse than they could ever conceive. But they didn't live like me. They didn't know what I felt. They knew nothing because they didn't care enough to know me.

So I guess some things don't change. Judgement will come, so will anger, bitterness, and rage. I'm sure I'll be dead soon. They'll probably off me the first chance they get. My life ends here at the ripe old age of 17. Just before the freedom of entering society and learning about the world and everything in it. They probably will laugh knowing I will rot in a prison forever instead of ever seeing the sun.

But that wouldn't be too bad. I've always been in prisons. Constraints. Shackles. Just because I will physically be in one now, doesn't change a thing. A horrible life, although most would consider me privileged to have lived. I've lived in the hell of my own mind my whole life, I have the privilege of depression, suicidal thoughts, and a slew of angry self loathing. So what? they throw me in there. The worst that happens is someone kills me, but I'd argue that's fair. I'd finally be free from this world. Maybe if I start starving myself now, I can even be dead by the time I get there.