My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, and I am dying.
I swear I can feel each fucking drop of my blood as it strikes the ground. I find myself counting each heartbeat, each moment, wondering if this beat will be the last in my song. Of course, it's damn hard to ignore your heartbeat when it's pounding so loudly in my ears. I can hardly hear over the pounding of my own heart.
The balance called, called me to complete it, and I did, even if it took my last breath to complete.
Especially then.
I always thought that being blind meant you couldn't see anything at all, that it would all just sort of be black, you know? But I can still see. Yeah, my vision is better than it's ever been before, in fact.
I can see what a fucking idiot I was to trust Ajedrez. I mean, she was this beautiful woman, sexy as hell, smart, or at least as smart as any of these Mexican AFN types are capable of being. I should have known she was faking... I should have seen...
And now I'm dying...
At least I had the minor satisfaction of sending the bitch to Hellgates to wait for me. I do wish I was able to see the expression on her beautiful, traitorous face when I shot her. I bet the expression was fucking priceless. Even better than Belini's when I shot the bastard.
It's that moment of comprehension that I live for, really. That moment when they realize that their life just ended, right in front of their eyes. That they were sitting, or standing, or whatever, looking at me, and looking also at death, but they never knew it.
They never knew it until it strolled up and shot them.
God, I'm shaking. I'm fucking freezing, out here in the blistering sun. Maybe there's some truth to what they say, that the deepest circle of Hell is cold, because that's where I am.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am in Hell. Fuck you all very much, hope to see you all very soon.
I hear something.
Bells.
Not like those fucking church bells that you can hardly hear yourself think over, but just little bells. Like bells on a bicycle. I can even hear tires on the cobblestone street. Oh, shit...
Fine. That's fine. Maybe it doesn't end here. Maybe I have one more day left in me, maybe even two. One more shot, as they say.
One more shot at bringing the balance.
My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, and I am still standing.
I swear I can feel each fucking drop of my blood as it strikes the ground. I find myself counting each heartbeat, each moment, wondering if this beat will be the last in my song. Of course, it's damn hard to ignore your heartbeat when it's pounding so loudly in my ears. I can hardly hear over the pounding of my own heart.
The balance called, called me to complete it, and I did, even if it took my last breath to complete.
Especially then.
I always thought that being blind meant you couldn't see anything at all, that it would all just sort of be black, you know? But I can still see. Yeah, my vision is better than it's ever been before, in fact.
I can see what a fucking idiot I was to trust Ajedrez. I mean, she was this beautiful woman, sexy as hell, smart, or at least as smart as any of these Mexican AFN types are capable of being. I should have known she was faking... I should have seen...
And now I'm dying...
At least I had the minor satisfaction of sending the bitch to Hellgates to wait for me. I do wish I was able to see the expression on her beautiful, traitorous face when I shot her. I bet the expression was fucking priceless. Even better than Belini's when I shot the bastard.
It's that moment of comprehension that I live for, really. That moment when they realize that their life just ended, right in front of their eyes. That they were sitting, or standing, or whatever, looking at me, and looking also at death, but they never knew it.
They never knew it until it strolled up and shot them.
God, I'm shaking. I'm fucking freezing, out here in the blistering sun. Maybe there's some truth to what they say, that the deepest circle of Hell is cold, because that's where I am.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am in Hell. Fuck you all very much, hope to see you all very soon.
I hear something.
Bells.
Not like those fucking church bells that you can hardly hear yourself think over, but just little bells. Like bells on a bicycle. I can even hear tires on the cobblestone street. Oh, shit...
Fine. That's fine. Maybe it doesn't end here. Maybe I have one more day left in me, maybe even two. One more shot, as they say.
One more shot at bringing the balance.
My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, and I am still standing.