Title: Can I Tell You?
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sawyer reflects on his feelings of guilt
Spoilers: Confidence Man and Outlaws
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone and ABC
Can I tell you what it was like to watch him die?
He lay against that dumpster the blood seeping through his clothing like the life that was so slowly seeping out from his body and the look in his eyes was what really made me sick. He pitied me and that was the worst of it I think; The fact that had he lived only a few seconds more and had I the strength or sanity in that moment to ask him to forgive me I believe that he would have.
Can I tell you of the fear I feel?
I don't fear the devil. I've known him since I was eight. No... Longer than that. I knew him every time my daddy got to drinking and would come looking for me or my mamma. I knew him long before I had ever even heard of a man called Sawyer. I've known the devil too long to be scared of him any more. He's not my friend. He's my shadow, the demon in the corner of my room, waiting for me when I turn out the lights. It's then that he whispers, telling me of everything that I've done wrong and can never put right. He's wasting his time. I know my sins all by heart.
Can I tell you whom I am truly afraid of?
I've heard two vastly different tales of Him. One of anger and punishment. A God who follows me everywhere and seeks revenge. Where the devil can't hurt me anymore than I've already hurt myself, my soul, I know that this God of Judgment can. One day He will catch me and I'm afraid that it will happen before I have been given the chance to deliver my little letter to the devil I wrote it for so long ago.
Can I tell you how many times I've prayed to this God to understand my own need for vengeance?
Than there is that other God. I use to hear about Him when I was young and I was taken to church. I'd hear, and can still, remember the choir singing out songs to Him in Heaven about His love and goodness. I have no doubt that He'd forgive me for all the bad that I've done, just like that poor dying man by the dumpster would have. He'd forgive me and I could start new and fresh and know that I'm loved and worth loving.
But I don't love myself. I hate myself as I hate the devil inside and I won't let Him forgive or love me. I can't.
Can I tell you about how long I've lived with this hatred and make you understand that I'm afraid to live without it?
Given every exact chance again I know deep down in my heart, and what remains of my soul, that I wouldn't have the strength or knowledge to change one decision I have made. I've never been a completely smart man and I would make the same stupid choices because there has been a large aching hole inside of me for so long that taints and ruins every chance I have to save myself.
But then I told you I don't want to be saved didn't I?
Can I tell you of the secret desire that haunts me? It's the one different choice I believe I would make, knowing now what I was so blissfully unaware of then. I sometimes wish, when I'm in my bed and thinking over my life, that when my father had come into my room, my mother's bood staining his soul, that I wouldn't have listened to my mother's words and that I would have crawled out from underneath the bed and ran to him.
I wish that my father would have killed me.
That is the one prayer I make to the loving God I told you about. Not to be forgiven. Not to be loved. I only pray that if He wants too He will turn back time and let me die.
Can I tell you what it was like to watch the man I had just shot die?
Although I have tried… No. I don't believe I can.
The End