Saviour
I guess the wings should have given it away but I was pretty high at the time. Accepting the occasional hallucination had become a way of life.
I was hungry, I was poor, and I had just killed a woman in the process of stealing her purse. Turns out she had no credit cards and sixteen dollars in cash. I vomited into the purse when I saw how much she had died for. I looked up at her body. Plain face, wide open eyes, and blood washing off of the plastic of her bright raincoat in the rain.
I was filled with revulsion at myself, my actions over the last six years, my upbringing, and my self.
It was an epiphany. I’d heard alcoholics refer to it as The Moment of Clarity. I could see my entire life spooling back down a stairwell, all the way back to the foster homes that had whipped and raped me into the person I was. I was a frankenstein’s monster made from molestations and beatings. I had no concept of love except as a tool for bartering. I had no concept of remorse except for when I was in danger of getting caught. I had no concept of loyalty unless there was a reward. I had no concept of empathy except as leverage. This was not the first person I had killed.
My last piece of humanity died that night. It came out of me and sloshed into the dead woman’s purse.
I used the sixteen dollars to get high. I climbed up to the top of a water tower. I looked down. With a sigh and a smile, I jumped off, racing the raindrops to the gutters. I didn’t flail or scream.
Before I hit the ground, I was caught. Strong arms circled me and slowed my fall. I heard the flapping of great wings. I didn’t struggle. I was slowly lowered to the ground in a comforting embrace. I lay back on the wet cobblestones and gazed up into eyes that understood me.
From that day forward, I no longer felt bad about myself.
I understood then that I had been chosen and that I was a soldier in a powerful army and that I could do no wrong in my commander’s eyes.
In fact, I felt like I had been given a purpose.
The understanding eyes I had gazed into were glowing and red. The wings that had slowed my fall were leathery.
I’ve killed more people in the last week that I have in the last year.
tags
I was hungry, I was poor, and I had just killed a woman in the process of stealing her purse. Turns out she had no credit cards and sixteen dollars in cash. I vomited into the purse when I saw how much she had died for. I looked up at her body. Plain face, wide open eyes, and blood washing off of the plastic of her bright raincoat in the rain.
I was filled with revulsion at myself, my actions over the last six years, my upbringing, and my self.
It was an epiphany. I’d heard alcoholics refer to it as The Moment of Clarity. I could see my entire life spooling back down a stairwell, all the way back to the foster homes that had whipped and raped me into the person I was. I was a frankenstein’s monster made from molestations and beatings. I had no concept of love except as a tool for bartering. I had no concept of remorse except for when I was in danger of getting caught. I had no concept of loyalty unless there was a reward. I had no concept of empathy except as leverage. This was not the first person I had killed.
My last piece of humanity died that night. It came out of me and sloshed into the dead woman’s purse.
I used the sixteen dollars to get high. I climbed up to the top of a water tower. I looked down. With a sigh and a smile, I jumped off, racing the raindrops to the gutters. I didn’t flail or scream.
Before I hit the ground, I was caught. Strong arms circled me and slowed my fall. I heard the flapping of great wings. I didn’t struggle. I was slowly lowered to the ground in a comforting embrace. I lay back on the wet cobblestones and gazed up into eyes that understood me.
From that day forward, I no longer felt bad about myself.
I understood then that I had been chosen and that I was a soldier in a powerful army and that I could do no wrong in my commander’s eyes.
In fact, I felt like I had been given a purpose.
The understanding eyes I had gazed into were glowing and red. The wings that had slowed my fall were leathery.
I’ve killed more people in the last week that I have in the last year.
tags