This is something I actually enjoye writing. I hope you like it. I only own Matilda. And any weird errors are the result of autocorrect. Please don't bitch about it.
This world will always be a battlefield between someone and another. Most people accept it and many don't. Life is meant to be lived, and enjoyed. It is meant to be the beautiful lie that leads to the ugly truth that is death. The many that don't see life that way are the broken and tainted souls of the world's discarded toys. They see that with good there will always be evil. However, they see their path paved by their determination to right their wrongs by seeking out the pain givers.
Pimps, hookers, drug dealers, Mafioso's getting caught with 20 kilos and then getting out on bail the same damn day. They punish a world where the most random person walking down the street could be the bringer of your end, how will the Watchmen bring us from our self induced hell?
That's the million dollar question though, right? Won't the Watchmen save us? Look at the MinuteMen. Didn't they succeed? No. The few people who dressed up and saved our asses a million times were the ones we rebelled against, murdered, drove insane, and forced their masks to be illegal. Now we are left to wallow in our self pity in this piece of shit, half assed, day dream we call life. In a society that we butchered and threw back into our protector's faces.
So, if you asked me."Do you think the Watchmen will save us?" I will reply.
"No."
My name is Matilda, but everyone calls me "Tilly," and that is my opinion of our situation. It all comes down to us...and we are so fucking doomed.
I just moved back here to New York and I already wish I didn't. It brings back bad memories. My mother was murdered here for what some would call an indecent lifestyle. When her after her husband left, her interests moved towards the fairer sex. I always loved and accepted her.
To Society, she was the deadly Silhouette. Someone I admired and aspired to make proud by becoming a vigilante as well. But I was little, and naive. When I was with her, I didn't need a father, I had a mother, and that was enough for got me out just in time for things to get bad. I stayed with my aunt who ended up raising me.
So here I'am. Grown, I got a job, no friends, I live alone, and I am perfectly happy with it that way.
I'm not a non sociable hermit-type person, I don't lock myself away and cower from the world. I just haven't met the right person I can trust yet. Call me picky, insensitive, or just plain bitchy but excuse me for wanting trustworthy people in my life. I'm not just gonna settle because of their money, good looks, or social status. Im a nobody in a land ruled by somebodys, and I couldn't care less.
That's what kept swimming around in my mind as I stared through the foggy window at the pouring rain. I looked back at the news paper in my hand. The man I only knew as "Eddy" in my younger years had been murdered.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the glass, sitting on the wide window seal. Somebody had secretly killed The Comedian, and it wasn't funny at all. Not one bit.
