#1nfects

[2005jesuschrist]

“    do you want to get a drink or something?   ”       said   @1nfects​

you were obsessive.    every day that had passed from the moment your father had been shot dead had been planned to each minute detail;      the lack of control in your formative years still made skin itch,    the delay in your plans,    the delay in finding justice in the senseless killing.     you were just a kid then,    unable to act,   unable to do anything;   but he had been there— -            almost a knight in shining armour,     an honest man who followed the duties he had been assigned. it had taken you years to follow in his footsteps— - to craft a plan, change your name to remain a faceless blur within the force until the time was right, until the dominoes would fall into place that would allow you to be partnered with him, to start yourselves on a wild chase for some copycat— - that’s what they are saying. another jigsaw copycat, ruthlessly⁽ᵎ⁾ targeting cops. that’s what they don’t get, what they would never be able to understand. those people, they were not without faults, their corruption ran deep into their bones, infected the city and the people in it. left children fatherless, shoving blood money into wallets without a second thought. and now, a drink, after refusals of coffee and hesitance at a new partner. an invitation to friendship, a sense of trust building between you that only urged you further, knowing he was one of the good ones.

" a drink? sure, the little man is probably already in bed anyway, won’t miss me too much. " faked a glance at watch, not really caring what the time was. had thought it fitting, the life perfectly crafted for yourself to blend seamlessly into the background was built upon banks' past, and it leaves you wondering if he thought about your father too— - the name charlie tattooed on your arm acted as a constant reminder of who you were doing this for. " first round is on me, as a thank you, for taking me under your wing. "

[2005jesuschrist]

“     i think you treat love too much like a reward.    and then,    by not accepting it from the people around you,    a punishment.      you’ve…     given more than enough of yourself.      when do you get to live?     ”       said      @1nfects​ .

there is so much in your life still to atone for,     actions quit and those 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 left a cavern of regret inside you,    left you to be haunted by what you did and what you weren’t ever brave enough to do.      it is not simply a life for a life,    there is no making up for the bloodshed at your hand,     supplies stolen and worthy lives left for dead in the time after the stadium:       you have to remind yourself in the dead of night that you are not her,     that grief was not all you would ever be,      that one day calloused palms may one day find peace that was not from the cool touch of sharpened metal.       and you did,    𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 peace came back to you when you never thought it possible,    when all else was lost,    a piece of yourself from before—      someone who knew at least part of who you were before the loss returned in the shape of a ghost haunting you.     (this haunting became a love story—),      however twisted and unorthodox it may seem.        you thought he should hate you too—         his family,    his friends,    his home.. the blood stained your palms even now,    dried in the curve of your own life line whilst theirs had been severed in the pantry when there had been no way out.     you often questioned what made you survive,     time after time?          why it was always you,     why you had buried your brother and mother’s memory and yet you still lived,   𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏-𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘.       if you could forgive,   why could you not find it within you to forgive yourself?      his response leaves you stunned,      and you sit in the silence that followed it,    combing over each word as if english was a foreign language,     brow furrowed as you make more sense in the pattern of disturbed dirt beneath your feet.                                                 “      er  ..            ”

a blink,    absentmindedly beginning to twist fingers around themselves,      searching for an answer you weren’t sure you had.        “   it’s not that easy,   it’s    ...              it’s not about me living,     if i stop 𝑜𝑟 i slow down then the people out there,   our family here,     desperately holding onto whatever hope they have left?       they might as well be dead.     i’ll carry it,     i’ll..   continue not accepting if it means they get to see another sunrise.       ”         you knew your own selfish nature,    how easy it would be to settle now—        this love is new to you,     and you would throw everything else away for him in an instant if he asked you to simply stay,    𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎.            “     they need me.    ”