Wednesday, May 4, 2011

One more body lies upon the ground. They keep coming like cannon fodder, not caring if I was forced to take one of their allies in the nights before. I've killed twice now, and... I can't bring myself to regret doing it. I could have ran, but I didn't. Someone lost their life by my hand, and I don't really feel bad over it.

I'm changing, but for good or bad I can't tell.

--


I'm sticking around this town for a little while longer. I found someone; another Runner. She looks so scared, another person left adrift in a world of lies. If not for the fresh scarring of an operator symbol carved into her shoulder, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. My senses for spotting other Runners aren't that in tune, or so it seems.

I have to wonder, what goes on in someone's mind to bring them to the point of actually cutting that... thing... into their own flesh?

2 comments:

  1. Perhaps killing to stay alive is exactly what He wants of you. You freaked out the first time, no regret the second time? That's jumping transitions fast, dear. I could it here and tell you all the pros and cons to this sort of change, but when it boils down to it everything depends on your perspective. Best way to figure it out? Examine your own self, your own mind. Enjoying the adrenaline and thrill of combat is one, enjoying the kill itself is another. Which then branches off into a few other sub-categories. Takes some time, but worth sitting down and figuring it out for yourself so you're prepared and don't have to stress over it.

    Are you sure she did it to herself? It's been known for Them to do it to the Runners or their own, even.

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  2. I think... The first time it was a sort of rush for combat. Not through me, but through the blade; speaking with an open mind, I suppose there could be a psychological reason; repressed urges, primal instinct, the blade as a projection of my own unaccepted love for violence, any number of explanations.

    The second time, I don't know. Maybe I was in shock. Maybe I was numb, or maybe I've just come to accept what it takes to survive. I still don't feel bad for what I did; they would have done the same to me. I don't think I've become some apathetic killer overnight, though. I don't, and can't, look at them as humans. Us and Them. Black and White. I wouldn't feel bad for killing an animal that attacked me, and I can't afford to regret taking a life that would just as happily take mine.

    --

    As far as she goes, I haven't asked about the mark yet. I don't think she's one of Them. hasn't tried to kill me yet, for one thing. I... want to believe in her until I see reason not to. Having someone to share this hell with for a while is... a relief.

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