what happened to us being the good guys? / maggie to glenn.
𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. the shouts, the gunfire, the blood on your hands that blazed back at you. you tried to scrub it away didn’t you? scrubbed until your hands came away raw & rotten. until you couldn’t tell if it was your own blood or anothers. was it enough to absolve you? you could force the image of those bloody & visceral polaroids into your thoughts & tell yourself that what you did was right. but it’ll never make it any easier to breathe.
the faux safety of the walls that surround you offered no solace, nor the warmth of maggie beside you. you know what you have done, what you have had to become to survive. an antithesis to your youth before. innocence lost down the barrel of a gun & a knife at the temple. you were naive once, a fool to think this bitter world would have done less than take & take & take. now you mourn the boy you used to be, the man you could’ve been.
you rise to sit beside her, the bed creaking ‘neath your shifting weight, & settle your palm on her back in a small semblance of comfort. you think, perhaps, it’s more for yourself than anything. a reminder that you’re not too far gone. ❛❛ it’s still who we are. ❜❜ exhale a breath, pray that it lifts the weight that settled in the hollow points of your chest. ❛❛ it has to be. ❜❜ a beat, voice barely above a whisper now. ❛❛ --------- it has to be. ❜❜
--------- the 100 sentence starters.