Live! Live!

Why haven’t I run?
Why do i want to live?
Self preservation, survival, it’s strong, powerful, it takes over your mind. It takes over everything.
The things he’s made me do-and all because of that gun at my head. All because I don’t want to die.
And, I should die. I should. I run through all the things that makes me want to live longer. My girlfriend, Tina, who I was going to ask for her hand in marriage not three weeks ago, my Mother, Father, Brother, friends, co-workers.
All bullshit.
Tina will dump me in a heartbeat when she finds out that I’ve become a monster, my parents will probably disown me, my brother will just stop speaking to me, and my friends and co-workers will look at me with horror, and fear. I’ve crossed that line. I’ve become the boogieman, the thing under the bed, in the closet, stalking the neighborhood for a victim in my quest to quench my lust for blood.
I’ll be a pariah.
And, when I do die, as we all do, will God take that gun at my head into consideration?
“Yes, Patrick, I know your life was on the line. I know you didn’t enjoy the things he made you do, so you’re going to purgatory for a while to think upon what you did, and ask forgiveness, contemplate your actions.” Or will He say ” You are my child, and I am very disappointed in you. I would have taken care of you, but you had no faith. You should have taken the bullet. To Hell with you.”
I should run, take the bullet, end it all. Be a man, a human being, but, I can’t, so help me God, I can’t, I can’t. I want to live another day, another hour, another second.
And the child kneeling in front of me, crying for his Mommy, will not change that fact.

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