While sitting in this dark, damp, place behind bars for seven days. While inhaling the stench of blood and urine. While looking at the fellow prisoner in the cell across from mine flipping me off constantly for no reason I can think of. It finally got through my thick skull that this world, and everything in it is nothing but a big pile of bullish*t.
A motherf**cking pile of bullish*t.
**************
Three weeks earlier in a different world...
I walked into our small apartment located in Florida, U.S with the groceries. Me and dad lived alone, but we were happy. Since he was turning 46 today, I was going to make him his favorite meal; Steak and potatoe wedges.
I began to slice the potatoes and cook the steak. An hour later was the best meal we'd had since Christmas dinner layed out on the table.
Proud of herself, she sat on the sofa and waited until her dad came back from his job as a janitor.
She glanced at the clock. It was 5:00 in the evening. Her father would be home in fifteen minutes. Then she would apologize for oversleeping for her job as the local librarians assistant and not having time to wish him happy birthday and send him off to work that morning like she usually did.
She took turns from watching her favorite drama and the clock expectantly, to watching the door for any signs of her father. An hour had passed. Worried, she called him on her cellphone. She heard it ringing from the back, where her father's bedroom was.
Did he not go to work today? Today wasn't his day off was it? No, he made his lunch for work yesterday evening.
Puzzled, she made her way down the hallway up to his door, and knocked. "Dad? I made your favorite dinner tonight. It's bit cold but it'll be fine if I warm it up. Can I come in?"
"...."
Hmm. He must have forgotten his phone this morning before going to work. But why hasn't he come back yet? I opened the door to his bedroom with a soft creak. I was greeted with pitch black darkness. The darkness was unusual, as he had always kept his curtains open, and the sun had yet to go completely down. As she walked into the room to turn on the light, a foul odor hit her, a revolting scent she couldn't name. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and continued to reach for the switch.
The first thing she saw once her hands flicked the light switch on was blood. Deep red blood. Blood which got into every little crack into the floor boards. Blood that trickled down from her fathers slit throat onto the carpet staining it red. She froze. Her eyes grew large from shock. Her face, pale. A rising scream became trapped in her throat. As soon as the realization of the situation hit her she ran out of the apartment in hysterics, screaming for help.
A couple of worried passerbys started coming her way to aid her, she was so eager to get help that she didn't even use the crosswalk as she made her way towards the passerbys who were across the street.