Scars

I couldn't care less about their shadows
I couldn't care less about how close their hands were.

I don't even notice even more.

"I'll fucking do it."

He held her neck with his arm and held a knife with his hand.

The windows from the 21st floor of the office building were still clean despite the current situation.

Why did he do this?
Why is he so numb to everything?

He was a nice kid.
Smart; kind of cute.

And he was about to slit his girlfriends throat.

Her golden gun colored hair was still perfect even with drops of blood being stained into it.
It almost gave her a bit of acceptance and grime.

I still couldn't understand why. or how.
How did this boy who was raised with right and wrong go so...so...

Dangerous?


Then I realized it doesn't matter if you know right or wrong. The only difference is that you know if you're doing right or wrong. It's all from your perspective.

My hands were cold from the rope tying them together behind my back.

I blinked and they were on him. One gunshot to the head from across the room.
Didn't even flinch.