[theatrical_muse] The Moral of the Story ...
The Moral of the story is …
Everything around me is a façade, everyone around me is pretending and on some level I think it’s always been that way. Even before. Long before this island my world was made up of people pretending. It was either everyone smiling at dinner parties and looking past my father’s alcohol intake. Or it was my mom sitting in her pearls with a drink in her hand listening to him talk down to me. He wasn’t all bad, when I look back now sometimes I feel nothing but anger and other times I just know that he did the best he could.
When I got to med school I heard this whispers. I was inbred; my father was a respected surgeon. I didn’t get to coast by; I had to earn my reputation. More dinner parties and fake smiles and so much that would have made me scream if I hadn’t had things to focus on and something to fix. It’s pretty ironic that I think of it that way considering everything but what can you do? It’s not like I ever could block out Sarah’s voice or my father’s - maybe that’s why I believed it with such vehemence. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t right all along but I think maybe that’s just the product of too much alone time to think about things I’d rather left in my past.
Here and now I’m in this cell and I have power here but they have more. They need me but they hold the cards.
It’s all a manipulation, a farce, a façade and I don’t think for one second that anyone is telling me the truth about anything. Juliet brings Kate in to sway my opinion and I’m suppose to what? Fall to my knees and beg to perform surgery on Ben? It’s pretty smart, using Kate against me but I’m not stupid. I was so angry, I was done hearing that they would kill Sawyer and hearing her tell me to do the surgery.
It’s funny. I wonder how many people in this place are supposedly in on Juliet’s plan. She asked me to kill a man and I spare no fuzzy feeling’s towards Ben but hell if I want to just kill a man because some woman I’m supposed to trust - because she bares a striking resemblance to my ex wife - tells me that he’s dangerous.
I don’t know when my decision was made, as I watched Kate being led away, her shoulders shaking. Or when that latch opened on my cell and I knew I was being set up. Or even when I caught sight of those TVs and everything just seemed so goddamn funny all of the sudden. A manipulation. A fucking farce. All of it. I had no illusions as to truth but manipulation, that I can spot a mile away. I grew up with Margaret and Christian Shephard as parents and what a façade that was; those people could manipulate better than they could breathe.
So my decision was made. I was going to do it and I was going to do it my way. I didn’t spare platitudes or reassurances with Juliet. It took half a second and his pressure started dropping. It took half a second for my fate to be sealed and I had an hour - they had an hour. And she was going to run. She was going to fucking run until she couldn’t run anymore and then she was going to tell me the story and after that it just didn’t matter because they’d be okay.
The moral of the story is I don’t take kindly to being manipulated and in my OR I call the shots.
Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Word Count: 601
Everything around me is a façade, everyone around me is pretending and on some level I think it’s always been that way. Even before. Long before this island my world was made up of people pretending. It was either everyone smiling at dinner parties and looking past my father’s alcohol intake. Or it was my mom sitting in her pearls with a drink in her hand listening to him talk down to me. He wasn’t all bad, when I look back now sometimes I feel nothing but anger and other times I just know that he did the best he could.
When I got to med school I heard this whispers. I was inbred; my father was a respected surgeon. I didn’t get to coast by; I had to earn my reputation. More dinner parties and fake smiles and so much that would have made me scream if I hadn’t had things to focus on and something to fix. It’s pretty ironic that I think of it that way considering everything but what can you do? It’s not like I ever could block out Sarah’s voice or my father’s - maybe that’s why I believed it with such vehemence. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t right all along but I think maybe that’s just the product of too much alone time to think about things I’d rather left in my past.
Here and now I’m in this cell and I have power here but they have more. They need me but they hold the cards.
It’s all a manipulation, a farce, a façade and I don’t think for one second that anyone is telling me the truth about anything. Juliet brings Kate in to sway my opinion and I’m suppose to what? Fall to my knees and beg to perform surgery on Ben? It’s pretty smart, using Kate against me but I’m not stupid. I was so angry, I was done hearing that they would kill Sawyer and hearing her tell me to do the surgery.
It’s funny. I wonder how many people in this place are supposedly in on Juliet’s plan. She asked me to kill a man and I spare no fuzzy feeling’s towards Ben but hell if I want to just kill a man because some woman I’m supposed to trust - because she bares a striking resemblance to my ex wife - tells me that he’s dangerous.
I don’t know when my decision was made, as I watched Kate being led away, her shoulders shaking. Or when that latch opened on my cell and I knew I was being set up. Or even when I caught sight of those TVs and everything just seemed so goddamn funny all of the sudden. A manipulation. A fucking farce. All of it. I had no illusions as to truth but manipulation, that I can spot a mile away. I grew up with Margaret and Christian Shephard as parents and what a façade that was; those people could manipulate better than they could breathe.
So my decision was made. I was going to do it and I was going to do it my way. I didn’t spare platitudes or reassurances with Juliet. It took half a second and his pressure started dropping. It took half a second for my fate to be sealed and I had an hour - they had an hour. And she was going to run. She was going to fucking run until she couldn’t run anymore and then she was going to tell me the story and after that it just didn’t matter because they’d be okay.
The moral of the story is I don’t take kindly to being manipulated and in my OR I call the shots.
Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Word Count: 601