NOT DEAD YET
Blood and steel and gunpowder. Don’t think I’ll ever get the smell off my body. Won’t ever forget what I saw. What I did. When I shot Rass, Sig’s brother, in the chest, I hardly had time to see his body stop moving before I was running. He spun backwards and twisted face down in the mud. And then I was gone, no time to stand back and soak up what happened. It’s still there, in my head, but it happened so fast and I wasn’t thinking, makes it seem less real. Almost like someone else did it. It was someone else. I’m not the same guy I was when I pulled that trigger. Firing that bullet in Ballentine changed me. Everything that’s happened in Los Angeles has changed me. Things aren’t happening as fast. I see them coming, I shape them if I can. Not reacting anymore. Carving this world into what I want. But you never get what you want. I’m still trying. That means getting your hands dirty. I got my hands dirty tonight. There’s still blood under my fingernails. Leaving flakes o