Daily Creative Writing Practice - They Use To Be Close [Short Story]
Do people do bad things because they're inherently wicked or is it more about cause and effect and the idea that we are molded by our environment that the active synapses of our brain stimulate our actions to adapt too whatever terrain.
He wondered if these were the thoughts of all dying men, if these self reflections were had by all men close to the end. By all men who just like him found themselves in the position, of looking at a knife handle that protrudes from their own chest.
If he was being honest though he wasn't really surprised that he was in this position, because he knew he'd been a terrible bastard for so long. A real rotten cunt. He never set out to be this way, but life seemed to just direct him that way. From young he'd always been good with his fists, as from the age of 14 he'd been knocking grown men flat out in just 2 hits. He'd made his bones from early and quickly grew from a troubled youth to a feared man.
His philosophy was that no man would put there hands on him like how his father had all those years back, and any person that tried would surely meet a dire fate where this rule applied for both man, woman and child. He'd dish out equal justice.
To be fair many wouldn't call it justice but for him it was his version of justice his version of a court jury system, only difference was that he was judge jury and executioner.
He didn't really consider himself to be a bad person though, just someone that followed the basic rules of survival of the fittest. That if he's to run with wolves he must be known as the wolf eater, if swimming with sharks he must be known as the shark eater. As this is the only way to stop another predator from turning their sights on him.
He never considered himself to be a badman but more the optimal of what a survivalist should be. Though the knife protruding from his chest showed he may of made a grave miscalculation in his thought processes.
But generally when he reached a certain notoriety level things just seemed to come so easy for him. Money, drugs women. They all came so fast so he had absolutely no respect for none of them. He'd blow through wads of cash at William Hill or snort away the equivalent of years of his life on hard drugs. While when it came to women he was just as bad, as far as he saw it they where their for a leg over and to run errands, any form of back chat would result in them meeting his fist. Instantly.
But all that changed when he met Jennifer as her gentle nature calmed him. She saw good in him when people saw Lucifer. She put effort into him when people plotted on his downfall. If he was being honest it was the first time in so long that someone helped him see past his own selfish actions. See through the haze of drugs that had been clouding the analytics of his mind for so long.
He met someone who loved him for him and when he now thought about it he loved her too. Regardless of the present situation. He let out a little smile that was quickly followed by red dribble's of bright red blood from. His smile though turned back to a frown as he slowly shock his head as his mind finally felt fully clear. If he loved her why would he act like such a cunt?
Even now he couldn't comprehend what would ever make him harm her gentle nature. He was suppose to be her protector, just like she'd been his. Maybe his probation worker was wrong, maybe it wasn't cause and effect from his environment. Maybe he was just an inherently bad person. Were his DNA structure was designed to only do wickedness. As there was no other way to explain why he'd treat her the way he did at times. Shouting at her with so much malice and ill intent because she might of had dinner ready late, knowing full well she worked both morning and late shifts, but his selfish nature said he must have now. He shock his head again. He was a cunt no other word for it.
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