What would you know of a man's guilt.
The eyes of a sinner perceives what is pleasurable as mighty.
The tongue of a sinner stutters profanity
The taste of a sinner is forbidden.
Was it guilt Durian felt pressing a gun agaisnt the head of a poor farm worker on his knees as he decorated his awful pattern drapes with the blood and brainspill of the breadwinner?
No.
This was business, this was life for Durian Van wolfdstraat.
He didn't have the privellge of finding surges either right or wrong nor did he find value in indicating the hazy concept of a morale compass.
"Cold will the heart stay
Of those who feel the most.
Wicked shall thy tongue bleed
Words of unkown.
A generation grown into humiliation
Like a bad harvest.
The Wolfdstraats shall know pain with
Their prestige
And emotional termoil
For over yanders to come "
All that was heard in the fraction of a second between the gunshot and the thudding of the now open minded debtor was the screech and wailing of his 2 youngest daughters as they fell to their knees hysterically and crawled over to hold the corpse of their father.
Durian was dressed in usual attire for surges.
A large dark brown leather trench coat with a popped collar which brushed against the sides of his jaw topped off with his hair slicked back and in a fedora tilted up.
He had a white pristine button up shirt with the first few popped and black suspenders hooking into his black dress pants.
He wore black leather gloves while holding the weapon which were soon tainted with blood.
Durian towered over the both sobbing girls with a void in his eyes.
Ah yes, the nature of a sociopath you could add.
However Durian did feel a type of emotion but had learnt to lock it away in what was a stoic expression.
The 2 little girl's, about aged 13 from their apperance, gripped onto the corpse of their father as one cried into his chest and the other glared at Durian.
“My Lord, it seems one of the brats didn't appreciate you blowing the brains out of their scummy parental figure”
Cadbury mocked the little girl as Durian clicked his tongue and tossed over a dirty glove and gun to Cadbury to wipe down clean and polish as Durian adjusted the golden Rolex around his wrist.
Stating the time.
“14:00, Noon.
When will the next be?“
“Around Supper my Lord.”
“YOU DISGUSTING MEN!”
Both Durian and Cadbury turned their heads in sync to find the audacious little blonde girl standing chest puffed out agsudnt Durian.
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Artistic outcast
Fanfiction"You don't get it do you " Pain, pain like you've never seen before Pain that twists and distorts your heart into so many shapes and forms that you can only clasp onto the little breath you have left to bear it. Pain that make your eyes shiver an...
