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Little Boy
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Jimmy fumbled with the pack, panting with exhaustion. Heíd spent the better part of the day clearing out the shopping mart of its remaining supplies, judging what to take, what not to waste his time on. That and trying to retain alertness. Heíd put himself through a hell of a lot and his strength was pitiful to begin with. Easy tasks and monotony were tiring. Twice heíd fallen asleep mid-task, when heíd only meant to sit down for a moment and catch his breath. His joints ached. He knew he was playing the game stupid, but it was a risk he had to take. There was no reason to overexert himself in packing, heíd need everything in the coming hours.

It was silent outside; heíd even heard a birdcall once.

What I wouldnít do for a bird right now. Bang it against the wall till itís dead. How would it taste? Meat. Meat meat meat. Hehe. Bang it till itís dead, heheh.

He wasnít sure why, but heíd developed a craving for meat. Hamburgers, steak, anything. Perhaps it was the fact he couldnít cook it, and hadnít had a good meal since waking up on the island. Jimmy was no survival expert, he had no idea how to build a cook fire, fix himself a proper meal. He took the canned foods, the things he could eat raw.

Show them how youíre worth it, when you get out there, fucking show them what youíre like, what youíve become. Donít talk. Donít fucking talk anymore. Prove it. Words are filth, fuck you. Fuck you, coward. You were a dirty coward, donít try to deny it-

It was hard to focus on anything anymore. His mind felt shattered, and he felt vulnerable. Sometimes heíd catch himself scratching at his wrists, not knowing why. It left him feeling afraid, and that wouldnít do at all. Heíd punched himself in the gut until his pain replaced his fear, and heíd forgotten what heíd done in the first place.

Moxie, people use it as a term now. You got moxie, you got balls. Heheh. Danya pulled a fast one. He knew what I could do- so he gave me the moxie, ainít that right?

Aside from his foodstuffs, Jimmy had little belongings left. His clothes were tattered, but he didnít care so much about them. His gun was working fine-, heíd fired it once at a shelf to ensure it wasnít broken. A bullet wasted, but much gained.

Unless they thought it was a joke. Unless- unless they thought cus I didnít have any- they thought it was a joke. They were laughing at me. Just like back then, they might not have said it but they were ALL laughing at me. And it just keeps on rolling doesnít it, laughing at the King, thatís how they thought itíd be, those fucking cunts those fucking PIECES OF SHIT-

Heíd smashed a till at the thought, throwing it at a window, watching it crack and pretending it was a face. Heíd screamed and cursed as it hurt his throat, bellowed and kicked until his face was red and heíd spit up blood. His throat was raw for the rest of the day, but heíd shown them.

But it wasnít enough. Oh no, it wasnít enough at all. He had his gun, but he had a mission. Theyíd killed Rosa, and the more he thought on it, the more he was sure she was the only one heíd ever loved. He stoked the embers, spending time walking up and down the store with his gun in hand, smiling and shaking, remembering what he was going to do. Inside, he felt like crying, but he beat himself in the face until he dare not think it.

Kill. Fuck. Kill. Kill. Kill fucking everything- kill fucking everyone. Hero, fucking pussy, thatís what I am, you fucking piece of shit. Fucking kill yourself Jimmy, thatís what you should do. But no, not yet because theyíre filth, so kill. Kill, not so hard right? Mad dog, letís see your war face, all the heroes had a war face so letís see yours Jimmy, you fucking whore- slit throats, cut cocks, fucking kill kill kill, thatís what youíre about right Jimmy?

He grew fond of smashing the windows, so he wouldnít have to look at himself. Minutes turned into hours. Rosa never came back. His rage grew.

Doesnít she know itís dangerous out there? Fucking bitch, doesnít she know Iím the man, Iím the one? Iím the one whoís going to get out alive, ainít that right? Oh yes, thatís what I said yesterday, thatís what I say today. Fucking whore. Come back Rosa, come back

But Rosa was dead and buried and heíd dug her up himself and screamed that story already.

Itís not fair. She was perfect.

Worst fucking nightmare Jimmy, youíre their worst fucking nightmare. You want to make it out buddy, right? So you gotta be your enemy, you gotta be worse then them. Wear a mask, thatís what a coward would do, right? AND YOU ARE A COWARD, RIGHT JIMMY?

And so the day passed. Or maybe more. Jimmy ate and slept and shit, and bid his time.

Night came again, and Jimmy smiled to himself.

Worst fucking nightmare. Moxie. Fuck and kill and donít be afraid. Heroes canít die. Thatís what you decided you were, right?
Edited by Little Boy, Jul 19 2011, 11:20 PM.
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
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