Manhunt
What is the victim's face - not us who's wrong
The terror of the chase - can't be undone
We turned the game around - not us who's wrong
You made us go to ground - can't be undone
Preface
There are some mistakes that cannot be forgiven.
It's difficult to say, really, how exactly to define these untenable deeds. What makes a slip-up so vile, so villainous, that an apology after it is something to laugh at? Even with most miscues, at some point they are able to be forgiven. An argument that went too deep under the skin to be just an argument anymore. A foul name or word accidentally released. Honest opinions that were less than polite to say at a certain time on conversation. All of these things can be overlooked, eventually.
But not murder.
Not cold-blooded murder by someone you trusted, by someone you loved. Someone closer to you than family could ever be. Even in the face of danger or worry, bloodshed was not to be expected. Everybody makes mistakes, as they say, and violence is not a way to solve, only a way to temporarily heal wounds that time is the only true answer for.
Not even time can repent murder.
An eye for an eye is the saying, but never a heart for a heart, or a love for a love. Under those circumstances annihilation is still not allowed. Especially not unto someone who cares about you more than you could ever begin to summarize on useless things such as words or phrases.
So what is it that makes a mistake unforgivable?
The inability for life to be restored, or for the error to be turned around. The excruciating impossibility of you ever feeling whole again. A life lost is not something able to be forgiven. And neither is murder.
When you begin to run out of people to trust completely, that is when you stop forgiving all together, and you live in a life of nonacceptance to anything ever done to you. When you flee into yourself, when you hide in the hollowness of every cell, every crevice, and every organ inside of you. Because you are not you anymore, when you lose the ability to trust, when you lose the ability to love.
A flake of snow fell down and landed on my open palm, my vacant eyes staring up at the meadows' spotless sky.
Merry Christmas, I thought bitterly.
EASILY the spookiest preface i've written, EVAR.
btws; youre not sposed to know who this is narrating during teh preface ;)
dood i'm so excited to write this! review por favor, this is one of those leads that pretty much says the end of the story. so im gonna be traveling back in time to start this one. its gonna be actionpacked and suppppppaspooky. :D
thanks babes! :D reviewskeeet.