My Turn!

In the hospital, I quickly gauge my surroundings. Survival, right?!

OK. Most of these guys are drying out. They are alcoholics. Fuck that. Alcoholism?? I fucking cut myself with a broken bottle, and then I took a kitchen knife to myself. And after bleeding a litre onto the floor, I sprinkled salt and vinegar onto to would to increase the pain, and asked my mother for a fag before I died.

Alcoholics are pussies.

Who else do I have to contend with, other than alchos?

I have a long haired dude who wont cut his hair and wont cut his nails. The alchos tell me he is a psycho. A Big bastard, Bigger than me. He wont speak.

I laugh inwardly. My fear demon is gone. I have nothing to lose.

I will wrap a fucking towel around his neck and throttle him. I will rip his fucking head off. I want him to come to me. I want him to try to apply pressure. I WANT him to. I WANT to kill him.

I sit in the common room as normal, smoking my brains out. Not eating. I haven’t eaten in week.

The big bastard comes in. He sits beside me. He wont look at me.Just sits there.

“I will rip your heart out cunt. And I will fucking eat it.” I think. Think, think, think. “Make a move. Make it. MAKE IT!”

He turns to look at me, and in that instant I stare into his soul.

I see sorrow. I see regret. I see sadness. I see me. But he is so much older.

I offer him a cigarette. He takes it, before getting up and leaving without a word. Inwardly, I shrug. Who the fuck cares?