This Is Not Fiction

[kitten_meat]

As I was laying there on the bathroom floor, in a puddle of my own vomit, I came to a realisation that if I did indeed want to get myself out of this situation, I was going to have to do something about it myself. I pulled myself up onto my knees, and then, with the help of the counter, to my feet. I looked at my face in the mirror. That face that had been given everything, without even asking, since it first entered the world. That face, that was now very badly bruised down its left side, the stain of dark red and blue spreading from the forehead down over the eye and splaying out over the split lips. "I can deal with this" I thought. "I can deal with this" I said to the face in the mirror. Everything that I had been given had been taken away now anyway. My father's credit cards no longer worked since they had discovered his death. My mother now hated me, and these assholes had stolen or burnt anything I had at my apartment. So there was nothing left to lose... and I couldn't feel better. If this is what it takes to be free, then give it to me. I had realised how spoilt and priveleged and cared for I had been my whole life... and how much damage that has caused me now... I know that I am going to be kicked out of college this term when I don't pay the student fees anyway... and I know that I have no family to consider consequences for anymore... I truly had nothing left to lose.

I shook off the vomit-soaked suit jacket I was wearing. I walked back out into the bedroom. Her corpse was still there - as still and as perfect as it was when I walked in. Looking at her vacant grey eyes, I became filled not only with rage... but also with a sense of righteousness... of vengeance. I went to the kitchen and found the biggest knife I had, and slid it under my belt. I felt dangerous... I felt free. I felt like killing the dirty cunt responsible for all of this.