Return of the Cruel Masters

I didn’t know how many people I pushed through or offended, I had to get out of here, had to get away.

It didn’t matter who stared at me with annoyance, or concern or any other human emotion, because my body was in fight or flight mode, the latter forcing its way into my system, a foreign invasion so intrusive, and intense that I could barely make sense of anything. I was ready to tear myself out from underneath my skin if there was anything left if they had left anything at all.

The universe seemed hell-bent on wrenching away what happiness I had acquired for myself. Happiness, something that had always been somewhat of an anomaly in my life, was finally in my grasp. It had taken time, patience, and love to nurture that Happiness. But it would desert me once again, in favor of better prospects.

Silly me!

Who was I to think that in the entire scheme of things, the universe had glanced twice at me? I was a mere speck on the face of a planet that was seconds away from mass destruction and full-blown chaos, what care would the deities take to ensure the happiness of this one little human?

I alternated between furiously grinding my teeth, and holding my mouth agape to inhale great gusts of air into me, as if the air would somehow cleanse the toxicity, the poison that swirled inside of my system. Later, I was told I looked like a caged animal; feral, panicking, trying to claw my way out of the cold iron grasp of my captors, my cruel masters.

Alas! As all animals suffer, so did I. There was no leaving behind the world, no time or means to take my life by my own hands before my cruel masters thrust upon me a misery I wouldn’t have the heart to wish upon the children of my enemy. Oh, those filthy wicked children; how they could stand the yowling of the mother cat as they drowned her soft, harmless babies in the cold water they had procured for the activity. Even after having screamed not unlike the mother cat, and helplessly trying to revive those smaller children, my revulsion would not allow me to want a similar fate for those filthy, wicked children.

I was aware that my feet carried me at an impossible speed away from society and into the make belief solace of my own little world. Unfortunately, for me, there was no solace to be found anywhere, nor could even the false sense of safety calm me down. The harsh wind lashed at my face but to no avail. I was already gone.

My cruel masters had come to wreck the little life I’d built for myself. When they had violated my body, it had been seen by millions, but felt only by a chosen, cursed, few. If those few people had the knowledge of their return, they would have walked a million miles in my shoes. They would have mourned beside me too. They would eventually learn about these circumstances, and they would have to forgive me for what I knew I had to do.

I had finally begun to put the pieces of me they had shorn apart. Barely venturing into society, this had been my third real-time going out to see people. It was a good day, until my attorney called. Useless man, as most men are. The pieces had fallen apart there and then. My cruel masters had been set free, by the tyrant rulers we were forced to endure. Now that they were out of harm’s way, they’d come back for me. I wouldn’t allow them the liberty of doing so.

I didn’t care for the clothes on my back or the freezing water. I simply sat near the tub and sheared a set of wires, before connecting them into a working socket. I did not shudder when the coldness hit me all at once, only lay down, pretending comfort in my watery grave.

No one had the right to violate me any further, and only I had the right to my life.

The wires slid home.

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