The Innocent Man

The Innocent Man

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing29m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Apr 1, 2019
"My fingers wrapped around the handle of the ax as I swung it over my shoulder, the wooden handle scraping my ear as it made it's decent into a resting position. I looked down at my feet just in time to see a little fist drag down a streak of blood as it relaxed itself. The blonde hair piled around the little girl's head covered slightly by the blood that surrounded it. I collapsed, the ax falling to my side as I released my grip on it in favor of holding this poor child close. 'It should never have been you,' I choked through tears, 'if there is even a God out there, it should never have been you, Alice.'"
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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.

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