As
a teen I would have vision of the future of whatever kids I had, if I
ended up in fact dating, marrying, and having kids with Maddie.
The
system was like a knife severing a head, the head becoming more
secure briefly before it ultimately falls off the shoulders of
giants. The eyes seeing the world for the last time, as it falls into
the basket.
I
was reluctant about the whole idea of assassinating our aunt, despite
being estranged since we were in our early teens. Thus I was the girl
that was the most dispassionate to be involved in tracking them down.
I carried my shotgun, but I didn't know how to use them. So I mainly
used them as a club, whenever fights broke out with out family.
Our
family was a band of ex phone phreakers, who translated their skills
over to the inter web. For a long time we invaded law enforcement in
the North West, those who took over our country at the speed of a
dying generation. Guillotines were rolled out, and refined into
projectile weapons. Our uncle never got us said weapons, as it
thought it didn't make a man out of us. So we mainly spent our time
use outdated weapons technology, building our skills with these. Even
when we had the money and the opportunity to buy a model for
ourselves, the uncle didn't let us get one. "Guillotine Guns are
for people who don't know how to fight."
He
may have been right, perhaps not.
What
I know is when we managed to corner our estranged family, two
brothers survived the fall. I was entirely uncertain whether the boy
I had always crushed out could ever forgive me.
I
didn't want to see him cry.
For
me I didn't want him to lose his brother.
But
my family had never been the one to listen to my opinions. Even when
I was a little girl I would be the one caught and paddled on the
bare. Eventually this became completely normal, then no longer any
pain there.
I
wore two little Jesus sandals, a pair of blue jeans, and a straw cap.
Most of my peers looked at me with a look I never could quite figure
out whether it was desire or disdain. So most of my life was spent
finding my primary entertainment in myself.
I
just wish we got a Guillotine Gun.
We
did but not in the way we meant.
My
brother were finally rounded up along with my uncle. They wanted to
spare me until the end. They were all shot on the spot, but they took
me to law enforcement and let them decide what to do with me. While
the guillotine was intended as a way of being more humane to
execution victims, in actuality the severed head stays alive for up
to sixty seconds after removal.
Something
to look forward to.
I
was walked up the scaffold, with a knife pointing into my back.
Various members of that particular street gang outsourced to by the
government, stripped me as much as they legally could, and started
fingering me in places. In order to make my last living experience
more bearable, I imagined the image of my brother caressing and
holding me. And then my neck was finally put through the loop.
The
worst thing about being beheaded...
Seeing
my cousin I loved cry. I didn't want to see him cry.
I
felt a sharp tinge in my neck.
I
was looking at my body, with the executioner holding up my head. I
was a blond girl with curly wavy hair. I wore a dress similar to
Southern Belles, as that was my particular kink at the time.
I
followed my cousin home.
I
walked through the door, and caressed tightly. He felt a chill in his
back. And suddenly he could do nothing but smile.
"Why
cry, I know you will always be with me." he said.
And
then put a shotgun to his mouth.
So
now we hold hands together, watching the living world go by.
We
walk to the edge of Purgatory, stopping to kiss. For our lives were
split apart by familial disputes. But it didn't need to be that way
anymore.
We
loved our incestuous love.
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