I didn't know that I could kill a man.
Yet here I stand, face and hands thick with blood. Like tears; wires snaking down my skin, burning into me, mixing with my own. The bruises; they're external. All of the pain comes from inside of me. Like a fire, from the inside out. Like I'm burning to ash. Nothing else compares. It means nothin'.
I'm a lot of things.
A cheat, a whore, a shitbag, a waste of space, a complete muggins – even a criminal. But a murderer? A cold blooded killer? Nah, it didn't sit right. Fist fights and broken knuckles; all feels like soft porn now. I'd put people in hospital, even in a fucking coma - but a grave? I dunno man, it changed me.
I did it for Freddie.
Of course I did. I've got nothing – no one now. What more is left for me to lose but my life? So tell me, if there's any fucking justice in this dirty little world, why did he pay that price? There was still so much inside of that boy. I'm already burning out.
I loved him. Properly, more than I've ever loved anybody. Him and JJ, they completed something beneath the surface. They fixed whatever was broken. They kept me together; kept me caged.
I couldn't stand it – when they turned their backs on me. I couldn't fucking stand it. All of that love and loyalty gone. Diminished like smoke and embers. History repeating itself. All of that shit, it just proved to me that my life is a vicious cycle. It won't stop.
But I still loved them. I still loved him. Freddie. I gave him all of me, every fucking thing. I didn't ask for anything back. That's real love, ya know? That's when you know it's real. You don't expect anything in return.
He was the guide I never had. The person I always wanted to be, but couldn't. Sensible. A dosser, granted – but a good head on his shoulders. Would look out for me. Tell me when I took too much, got too deep. Friendly hands pulling me up. Gentle reassurance. Not much drive, but so much passion. A hunger for something - a hunger in his eyes.
Now there's nothing left of him. Fragments. Just bits. That sick cunt made sure of that. Made sure that nobody could recognise him if they found him.
But I'd always know. I'd always feel it – sense it – ya know? He was a part of me. He is a part of me. A part that terrifies the life out of me because he was the truth.
He was the truth.
And I should have been there. I should have helped him. I was strong where he was weak. It should have been me. It fucking should have been me.
I didn't know I could kill a man.
Yet, I killed two.