Revenge & Relief
One of the things that Michael's lifestyle has taught him is that things are not just given for the hell of it. It doesn't matter how much a person deserves it, or what they have done right in their life in order to get it. No, if you want something then you have to take it. There is no alternative.
Justice, for example, isn't just handed out because a person deserves it. In fact, in Michael's experience, people who most deserve it never get any, so the only solution has been to just seek it for himself and take it. Vindication, for this reason, falls into the same category as revenge does; the only difference is that revenge is vindication in its crudest form. It's a way to settle things, make things right, and show people that you aren't going to take things lying down. It is raw, and cold, and unapologetic, but in a sense it's perfect. Beautiful, even.
But no matter how much he likes the taste of revenge, what Michael likes most from it is what comes after it. That relief that usually floods him when all is said and done, when he knows that he's done and that he got even.
This time that feeling doesn't come.
As soon as he gets home from his trip to Philadelphia Michael doesn't bother to go upstairs, or even to the living room; instead he heads towards the downstairs bathroom and locks himself in there. During the drive he had been expecting the relief to kick in, to remove the doubts that had started to grow deep inside despite of himself, but it didn't. It still doesn't.
The windbreaker and shirt he's wearing are taken off and he splashes his face with cold water, as if that way he'll be able to feel normal again. Afterwards he waits, and he stares at himself in the mirror as droplets make their way down his face, but there's nothing. He almost expects his body to show a physical sign that will give away how unlike himself he feels right now, but there's nothing. Not one sign.
Soon enough, without having to see it, he realizes what the change is. He doesn't feel any sort of relief from killing Ray because there's still a very strong need for revenge running through him; one stronger than any other time in his life. That need doesn't let him feel that relief he's expecting. If he had that feeling of knowing that he was finally done, that he had been able to set things straight, then he could finally continue living his life. But, this time, he can't. For as long as Jack is still alive, for as long as that need clutches tighter to him, he knows he won't be able to return to the life he had started to get accustomed to.
Despite how much he likes revenge, and how much he wants vindication at any cost possible, at the moment he no longer wants it. He leans against the wall, suddenly weary, and closes his eyes as emotions clash inside him in a way that leaves him almost breathless. Now that the adrenaline is running out, for the first time in months, revenge isn't what's keeping him going. Instead it is almost choking the life out of him, it feels like. No, the only thing he wishes he could have right now is relief. He just hopes that he'll be able to find it soon enough, before revenge leads him to a darker path than the one he feels he's already on.
Justice, for example, isn't just handed out because a person deserves it. In fact, in Michael's experience, people who most deserve it never get any, so the only solution has been to just seek it for himself and take it. Vindication, for this reason, falls into the same category as revenge does; the only difference is that revenge is vindication in its crudest form. It's a way to settle things, make things right, and show people that you aren't going to take things lying down. It is raw, and cold, and unapologetic, but in a sense it's perfect. Beautiful, even.
But no matter how much he likes the taste of revenge, what Michael likes most from it is what comes after it. That relief that usually floods him when all is said and done, when he knows that he's done and that he got even.
This time that feeling doesn't come.
As soon as he gets home from his trip to Philadelphia Michael doesn't bother to go upstairs, or even to the living room; instead he heads towards the downstairs bathroom and locks himself in there. During the drive he had been expecting the relief to kick in, to remove the doubts that had started to grow deep inside despite of himself, but it didn't. It still doesn't.
The windbreaker and shirt he's wearing are taken off and he splashes his face with cold water, as if that way he'll be able to feel normal again. Afterwards he waits, and he stares at himself in the mirror as droplets make their way down his face, but there's nothing. He almost expects his body to show a physical sign that will give away how unlike himself he feels right now, but there's nothing. Not one sign.
Soon enough, without having to see it, he realizes what the change is. He doesn't feel any sort of relief from killing Ray because there's still a very strong need for revenge running through him; one stronger than any other time in his life. That need doesn't let him feel that relief he's expecting. If he had that feeling of knowing that he was finally done, that he had been able to set things straight, then he could finally continue living his life. But, this time, he can't. For as long as Jack is still alive, for as long as that need clutches tighter to him, he knows he won't be able to return to the life he had started to get accustomed to.
Despite how much he likes revenge, and how much he wants vindication at any cost possible, at the moment he no longer wants it. He leans against the wall, suddenly weary, and closes his eyes as emotions clash inside him in a way that leaves him almost breathless. Now that the adrenaline is running out, for the first time in months, revenge isn't what's keeping him going. Instead it is almost choking the life out of him, it feels like. No, the only thing he wishes he could have right now is relief. He just hopes that he'll be able to find it soon enough, before revenge leads him to a darker path than the one he feels he's already on.