“Take that self righteous shit and sell it somewhere else – you and I both know this has nothing to do with their lives. My life holds no meaning to you – and they are nothing more than a means to your ends. The only thing you give a fuck about is your own agenda and the only reason you’re pissed off is because you can’t stand the idea that this – all of this, everything you have done, every monstrous act, every unforgivable deed, every man you trusted and killed – amounts to absolutely nothing if you don’t have a martyr to fight for.”
Shifting his grip on his crutch, it took everything in his power not to carry on – he could feel his fury building to the point that English was slipping from him. Spanish was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a far superior language to lash a man to a crippling degree with, but he had come too far in this game to let even an insult pass in his mother tongue in a heated moment like this one. Swearing in a second language at a time like this said one thing only – that it was the first – and even that was too much information to impart on this man.
Eventually, he found some measure of calm and continued in a clearer, more clipped tone. He was no longer striking, but he was not relenting, either. “If you want to claim that their lives matter, now is the time to prove it. Drop this fight that cannot be won, and disappear. Live – and by whatever you still hold holy, let them do the same.”
Ocean Archive 