No. It hurt. It was worse than that. Burn. It was him. Him, all along. His eyes ever gray were unchanging. Broken. Not sad. Broken. It had been done right under his bony little nose. It had to be punished. It had to be an example to others. No one was talking. The silence throbbed my eardrums. It was worse than screaming; rabid, mortal, shouts. Then the flash. The silent screams. The smell. The touch. Then it hit me. The betrayal. The backstabbing. The color of it all. I was happy, really... Was I? I had found closure in the longest week in my life. The cells. Had I? I had done it all, seen all I had to see. Guilt. Depression. Rage. Hollowness... Love. No. I was not ready. I did not want to. I was not going to. This was an outrage. This was not what I deserved. Was it? I stood up, but my body was there. Cold. Lifeless. Dead. An example. A twitch. A twitch of the finger. That's all it took. I was open. I was alive. A twitch.All Rights Reserved
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