Disclaimer: If I owned Dark Angel there would be a third season. But I don't.
A/N: I hope you enjoy it.
Garbage
The propaganda coming out of his mouth was despicable. It made her want to scream in indignation. Not alive. Not alive!
Did they not feel?
Did they not hurt?
Did they not need to be held or cry like their world was falling apart?
How dare he sit there preaching to the world. How dare he judge them.
In a few words, he claimed them to be even less then the fungus growing in-between somebody's toes. No better then scum on the street.
How dare he say they don't have a right to exist. He didn't say it in so may words. But he meant it. Oh, he meant it. In his posture. His superior tone. They were garbage.
Somebody else's trash.
Wanted by no one.
Taking up room.
Trash.
Garbage.
Nothing.