Bottled Water


I practiced dual-wielding bloodied crowbars as a sullen fog set in. I gazed down at the bloodied brick and thought of that bandit's final gasp. He pleaded with me to spare him, and I didn't even think about it. Six years ago, I wouldn't have thought about killing him. When society falls, I suppose morals go with it. A case of bottled water. I ended his life, for a case of water. What had I become? A survivor, or a killer?



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1 Comments

  1. Shit, it is what it is. You had to do what you had to do in order to survive!

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