Disclaimer:Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: This story was intended to be part of the A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Firework (Mini) Edition, but apparently I got the date to submit by crossed, so it sat on my computer too long. (I could have sworn I had until June 24th, so I was waiting until almost the last day to submit as it gives me severe angst to submit early and have them sitting around in someone's inbox unposted). However, as I didn't get it submitted in time, I've made it a little darker and cruder than it originally was.

Warning: This story is from the perspective of a rapist, and may be disturbing for some or potentially most. It in no way expresses my own personal opinions or views.

Freedom

Lanny stepped out of Walla Walla State Penitentiary. He'd been in the Penn for just a little over six years, not including the fifteen months he'd spent in jail.

And all for what? Screwing a few bitches?

They'd wanted it, even if they'd said no, if they hadn't wanted it, they wouldn't have been wearing those clothes, they wouldn't have been walking down those streets, they'd have been smarter.

Even a small child was smart enough to know better than to go down dark alleys.

So, clearly, the cunts had been asking for it.

But the biggest, most annoying part, the reason he'd been caught, hadn't been due to one of the sluts he had fucked – after all, most of them had never even come forward.

Instead, he'd been rendered unconscious a few hours after talking up some cute sweet thing who had clearly decided to head down the back streets because she'd been looking for a good hard lay. And if it hadn't been for the so-called good Samaritan in his Volvo, she'd have gotten it too.

… Even if his drunkard friends had chickened out.

But that wasn't what had happened.

He still suspected it was that supposed good Samaritan who'd somehow knocked him out and left him in front of the police station with a signed confession.

The confession had been in his handwriting. More than seven years after it happened, and Lanny still couldn't figure how that sorcery had happened.

Lanny looked back toward the prison briefly, his lip raising in a slight snarl.

He was finally free of that hellhole, and he had no intention of going back, even if it meant he'd have to get more final with the next bitch he fucked.

Sighing, he hoisted the small bag that held all his worldly belongings and started trudging along the road to head back to civilization.

According to the guard, it was the fourth of July tomorrow, so he supposed he'd head to Seattle and watch the fireworks before he started to figure out where he was headed next.

It seemed he had a reason to celebrate Independence Day this year... maybe he'd even finish it with a bang.