Uncalled For
Oct. 2nd, 2009 08:36 pmI did not need to see the patches of raw, suppurating flesh, nor catch the sickly-sweet whiff of putrescence as Merridew held up his arms for the world to see to know that the evidence of his wounds would draw down indignant cries, and force several of the jurymen to recoil in disgust. It takes practice to view such sights with equanimity, to measure the red streaks climbing to the elbows and gauge the necessity of amputation with an objective mind.
God save me from ever learning how to accept calmly that such damage was done by my own hand.
God save me from ever learning how to accept calmly that such damage was done by my own hand.