Over and over, the wet sounds echo off the metal toolboxes surrounding us as I mutilate his body, the same way he did to my friend. The same way he tried to do to me. And Bash watches in stony silence, his body still as a statue. I’m so fucking sick of men thinking they can just take and take and take until there’s nothing left. Then, when there’s no more than a jaded corpse, they move on to their next victim, as if the last one never existed.
