They say that killing is illegal.
I say sometimes it's a necessity.
I'm not a killer, I'm a judge. A judge for people, whom the law couldn't reach. I am a judge, maybe unusual but one nevertheless.
𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻.
They call me a murdere...
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🔥𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐🔥
🔥𝚅𝚘𝚝𝚎&𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝🔥
🔥𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🔥
⏳ 𖧷 ⏳ 𖧷 ⏳
"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged"
⏳ 𖧷 ⏳ 𖧷 ⏳
[Y/N's POV]
One month later. . .
"Live"
That was his last word.
What is life?
I don't know what life is, but I know one thing about life for sure, it pushes you until you break, just to see, if you'll put yourself together.
Lovely, isn't it?
My life is built of paper walls, and I'm not sure if it'll stand the upcoming rain. When you live in this house of cards and the sky holds nothing, but the promise of more storms, you feel disappointed. When you want nothing but a hand to hold or an arm around your shoulders and none comes, you feel lonely and the world becomes cold and empty, like slow poison for the soul.
I remember going to church every Sunday with my nanny and brother when I was a kid. Ironic, considering the fact that I'm not exactly on the straight and narrow and am doing things God would definitely not approve. But there's one thing that I retained from church, and was also the thing my nanny would tell me every night.
Life is like a boomerang, if you're good, good things will always come back to you.
Utter bullshit!
I was good, nothing good happened. I'm not the best person now, still, nothing good happens.
I wish my nanny would tell me back then, that this life is fucking not fair. But if life's unfair, I'm going to make life unfair to my advantage. I'm going to be the thing everyone sees me. I'm going to be the monster they want and I'm not going to apologize. Why would I? No one apologized to me for turning me into it.
My gaze shifts to the rear-view mirror, landing on the evening sky. The bright ball of fire casts it's golden rays down upon the clouds, turning them into rich hues of orange and red.
