Dead Man Walking
It was out of his hands now.
Okay, so it wasn't. He dearly wished it was. That he wasn't constantly faced with these choices that were hardly choices at all. It was do it or die, and if you fail… he shuddered at the thought of what happened then.
He'd known from the moment he'd gotten into this mess that he wasn't behind the wheel at all.
Sometimes I feel
Like I am drunk behind the wheel
The wheel of possibility
However it may roll
He'd only known for about five minutes or so, however, what he was thinking about now- that constant fear of a thing was often worse than the thing itself.
For so many years, he'd lived in constant fear of being killed- by his master for incompetence, by his once-friends for what he'd done- hell, at one point even by himself for that.
On the other hand… was he just going to be fortune's fool? Slave to the circumstances?
Give it a spin
See if you can somehow factor in
You know there's always more than one way
To say exactly what you mean to say
The more often he thought about it… he knew there really was no way out. His greatest fear, for so long, had been death… but if he tried to escape it, he'd be killed. If he stayed put, it might take a little longer but he'd still be killed. If he kept doing whatever his master said (as he'd been doing for more than a year) it would take quite a long time but he'd still be killed. Whether by his master for screwing everything up once again or by someone else… by one of the only ones who didn't think him already dead.
Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind?
How could I have ever been so blind?
I was waiting for an indication
It was hard to find
But he was already dead.
The ultimate horror of the coward, he thought bitterly, I'm a dead man walking.
Don't matter what I say only what I do
I never mean to do bad things to you
So quiet but I finally woke up
If you're sad then it's time you spoke up too
On the other hand…
If fate guaranteed his life an ending, what tragedy did he choose?
A triumphant one. Tentatively, he turned this new thought over in his mind.
If I'm already dead… then there's no reason for me to fear death… fear's the only tool he ever had… the only hold he had over me…
His mind was reeling, faster and faster, into overdrive…
Oh, clever Master, you've missed the crucial fact… if my devotion is nothing more than cowardice, then how dangerous must it be to rely on something in which what's needed is courage from me? It works and you gain an enemy in me- clumsy and incompetent though I may be…
How could he have missed it before?
Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind?
How could I have ever been so blind?
I was waiting for an indication
It was hard to find
But it would be foolish, he thought, to announce sudden defiance. He wouldn't simply die- everyone knew what happened to the defiant, and by the time that was over they had begged him for death- and nothing would happen.
But he could wait. That was what he could do. Wait. He'd gotten good at waiting. Stalling the inevitable, perhaps, but that was what life was, wasn't it? Stalling the inevitable? No matter what you did, you died eventually.
This had been illustrated quite graphically to him of late.
Results. This had also been driven home. When you did something, it didn't matter whether it was an accident, whether you'd been forced, or anything. You could say "I had no choice," "I didn't know," or "It's not fair," but, guess what? No one was listening.
He'd learned that he hard way.
It was what you did that mattered. Not intentions.
Don't matter what I say only what I do
I never mean to do bad things to you
So quiet but I finally woke up
If you're sad then it's time you spoke up too
It was amazing how little you were afraid of when you knew you'd got nothing left to lose. Being as good as dead already was an oddly freeing sensation. When all you had was nothing, nothing could be taken away. Amazing, really, how you could derive hope from the icy knowledge that you'd lost all hope.
Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind?
How could I have ever been so blind?
I was waiting for an indication
It was hard to find
Peter Pettigrew stood up straight for the first time in ages. He'd been slightly chubby before, but it's incredible what not eating much- or sleeping for more than five minutes at a time, for that matter- for the better part of a month can do to change that kind of thing. Anyone watching- and no one was- would have noticed that he suddenly looked completely different. His eyes no longer darted around in their sockets as if looking for a way out, and he no longer appeared poised to run.
Don't matter what I say only what I do
I never mean to do bad things to you
So quiet but I finally woke up
If you're sad then it's time you spoke up too
[a/n: ~coughs~ I wrote this in response to all the bad feeling everyone seems to have toward Wormtail. I just know I'm going to be flamed…]