Fault? Not mine!

Oh not that he had never been down and trodden on before. For, indeed, he had experienced oppression and pedestrian injustice. And he had fought back with the righteousness of the Truth, he then believed in. What had happened now?

His tenuous resolve to not think about the people in his life began to crumble like a levee during an apocalyptic storm. Soon his thoughts were awash with memories of treasured friends and beloved family. Oh God, he thought, not these memories. Memories so precious, poignant, and especially agonizing, at this dark hour of reckoning. Yet they implacably violated his resolve.

Love the powerful memory of those past. Oh how he had known love. He knew he had been lucky. His first love, yes she had been beautiful in all the ways a first love is to every man. And yet she had been so, so much more to him. And he imagined himself to have been more to her then he really was or ever could’ve been. He was certain of that now.

With her he sensed the envy of everyone and often times he relished it. He never once thought to resent the admiration bestowed upon her. He knew it was a great time to be, who he was, and, especially to be with her.

He eventually failed her, not knowing when or how his fall from grace begun. It had been in his principals that faltered, not his deeds. Even to this moment he never ceased making an amends towards her. She had never begrudged him. On the contrary she still loved him. However she knew, in order to keep his love for her intact, she would let him fail. A sacrifice she suffered so their love would survive. God he missed her. A deep pain like that of a slow puncture with a blunt knife, to the gut, caused him to wince as his eyes moistened further.

And there had been others. All, he thought, had been beyond him and his modest possessions and means. But that could not have been. Because that may have meant there was something to his Truth. He ignored this thought as vivid memories inexorably trespassed on his conscience.

Yes, not only had he rarely been without the love of a beautiful woman, he had the blessing of many great friends. And what a collection of friends he had unintentionally assembled. He had grown to consider his friends as a family. And like the true friends they had always been, they had not abandoned him now. How he was not sure, but he was certain they would of rallied for him. Apparently their efforts had been in vain he thought. Or had they tried? His reverie grew macabre imagining things if he survived to see them again.

He was startled out of his contemplations by a blood curdling scream that sounded as if pieces of flesh had been ripped loose from the throat of the wretch; who’s screams continued to crescendo. He lowered his head and tried to block out the sound. Pressing his palms against his ears and humming did nothing to deaden the bloody howl. The scream was terrifying.

Try as he might blocking out the screams was an impossible proposition. Now it was shrieking. Now, he heard, some odd thumping sounds. Then the crying began. Someone was sobbing uncontrollably. He heard laughter, a woman’s laughter. A keening, ear shattering, wail. Odd, noises. Noises that defied any attempt to identify. New sounds, now, like a wet, fleshy thudding. Giggling? Was that actually giggling? Ungodly cries of agony echoed on the concrete walls were now mixed with the maddening hysterical giggling of a woman. He thought who was this fucking bitch? How could any human laugh unchecked like that at some else’s suffering?