They don’t want to hear me lament the loss of my innocence or cry about how I went from pacifist to killer in a matter of seconds. They don’t want to hear me go into gory detail about the way I felt the crack of his skull reverberate up that stick of wood or describe the way the tiny bit of life he still possessed drained from his eyes as looked up at me. Nobody out there wants to hear my fucking sob story. Nobody except you. I know you’re trying to help but just let it go, I didn’t pester you to deal with your loss over the internet’s open forum. Please just let go. I’m so fucking tired of all of this.
I’ll be fine. I don’t regret it; I did what was necessary to keep JD alive. I just wish that fucker hadn’t died, that he possessed the same ungodly endurance that our dear Arkady goes on and on and on about. But you know? Despite everything, the sick feeling I wake up to every morning and this warm sting of panic that keeps invading my chest, despite it all I don’t regret it. If it was needed I’d kill him all over.