The Last Party

by A.R. Torre

anticipation and hope were half of the enjoyment of life.

In here, the maybes could kill you, but they could also keep you alive.

The hope was what got you through the agony.

Grief does strange things to people. For some, it weakens them. For others, it makes them stronger. Harder.

Maybe we’re all just psychopaths waiting for our trigger.

She’d probably never been spoiled by a man. Most women hadn’t. Most women took the shit they were given and didn’t expect or demand anything more.

I gotta say, it seems like a dumb idea to put all of the dangerous people together, in one place. I mean, it would just take one crazy nut to cause a lot of people to die.

Sometimes it’s not the people that change. It’s the mask that falls off.

I didn’t have daddy issues; I had a fucking daddy tsunami that was six layers deep and capable of decimation.

inmates. Would you rather sit on a cake and eat a dick? Or sit on a dick and eat a cake?

I was just blinded by hate and rage and the deep, deep sadness. It was like falling down a well of hell, one where no one could reach you, no one could hear you screaming, no one understood.