The Queen Pin Excerpt

~Eyes wide open and it's another day, another agonizingly painful, never ending reminder that this life and soul continues to inhabit the shell of a body that I am forced to possess. It hardly matters to the higher forces of nature or even the gods, that every moment for me is an eternity, chiseling away another ridiculous pebble that is my sanity. The very real imperfection of the human mind is its sanity, a purely fictitious state a being conjures up to conform to the everyday normal, even when the mind probably  isn't anywhere near the version of sane the dictionary predicts it to be.

~Everything in life we humans do is pointless, everything we say holds no value, and every unintelligent thought we create is as undeniably vacuous as the human who invented it. In the end, we're just worm food.

~I used to believe that one day when we passed on, we'd be surrounded by those we loved who'd gone ahead of us and I'd get to see her again. Now I'm the ever untrusting, disbelieving cynic without anything to drive for, no one to love, and a shattered soul that has no more tears left to cry. I shouldn't cry anyway, a monster like me doesn't deserve that luxury. The things that have happened on my watch, all the atrocities still give me gut rot something fierce.

~In the not so far distance, there is the oddly hypnotizing sound of metal doors sliding open and footsteps from burly guards arriving at the entrance to my corridor. The noise is strangely methodical in the exact precision at which these federal agents kept their schedule. Another sliding gate unlatched and rattled open, meaning I had only a few more minutes before they came for me. It was my time to be chosen. That, and I'm almost positive the protesting crowd outside was becoming violently restless.

~As many deaths that being charged on my head, and the amount of blood metaphorically drenching my hands, I didn't exactly blame them for wanting me in the injection chair. I just wished that I had actually done all the those things they were crucifying me with, least that way I could hate myself as much as they did.

~Wait... I have one death on me, one I know I am guilty of. That one precious little life that had so much left to live for, and I let her die. Sworn by a blood oath before birth and while still in the womb, that tiny baby girl was charged to me to protect, love, cherish, and raise. And I blew it. No matter how hard I try to force away the guilt, it haunts me, just like her still warm, dead face continues to linger in my memories. That limp body and how it would never move again, those cloudy closed eyes and pretty baby lips, pursed as if only sleeping are what my nightmares are continuously made of.

~Sometimes I try to blame her, tell her it was her fault for dying, but then I remember who put her under that blanket, who tried to cover her up so they wouldn't hurt her.

~It's at that moment when my pain wells up strong and nearly drowns me in the overwhelming sorrow of it all. So much suffering in my own heart that most days I hardly know what to do with it, and my mind cracks just slightly more, enough to bring me to a screeching halt... and the memory reels begins...