❛ we will be what everyone wants to be. perfect. ❜
@pleinsdemuses
It was difficult to think through the myriad drugs in his system. His thoughts were a constant muddle that it was impossible to untangle. Admittedly, he'd mostly given up trying at this point. Dex understood why he was here. He'd killed a number of people, and he wasn't even really sorry about it. He was only sorry he hadn't succeeded in killing Fisk. Sorry that Julie had been caught in his crossfire. Sorry that he'd let a selfish, manipulative fuck like Fisk destroy his whole life.
In some ways, being here was a relief. That granite control he'd been striving for every day of his life for as long as he could remember--to stay on the path, to be good--had crumbled, and there was no piecing it back together. He didn't have to try anymore. He didn't have to do anything anymore, except shuffle from one place to the next and swallow the pills they gave him like clockwork. That monster inside him he'd tried for so long to leash? It turned out the drugs kept it subdued better than anything he'd ever learned in therapy, and if there was a small, buried part of him screaming to be let out, it was hard to hear it over the fog of his mind.
He swallowed, his mouth perpetually dry from the drug cocktail, and tried to focus back in on the conversation. He'd already forgotten the name of the woman sitting across from him, but he'd realized it didn't matter. She wasn't who she said she was anyway. Despite his difficulty in following a conversation these days, he'd grasped the overall point of this one.
"You want me to kill people." His voice was dull, like his eyes, like his mind. He wasn't offended. It was what he was good at. There was no denying that to himself now. He didn't feel much of anything about it, except so, so tired. He'd trapped himself thoroughly in a prison from which there was no escape.



















