DRIVING HOME, my black &white eyes were still working, but the images were reversed. Inside out. Inverted. For me, playing it safe wasn't playing- it was my life. I couldn't find the controls- nothing was where it had been. Terror said it was my partner, but I didn't have my old pal Fear to keep the nerve-endings sharp. Strega the witch was back in my life. Liars gave me their word, sociopaths gave me their trust. Dead people in my zone- some didn't know it yet. Some had my address. Users wanted my blood and vultures waited for my flesh. And I couldn't work up the adrenaline to get off the killing floor. Get off the track before the train came. It wasn't just my cock that wouldn't work. I didn't know if I was lost or gone. In the ground, with Belle.
Freaks use pornography on kids to desensitize them. Break down their natural resistance. Make them think this is the way things are. Drop the thresholds until they can step over them.
Maybe lies and loss work like that too. They don't take your soul, but they made it not worth fighting over.
Like when you're hijacking. You know you're going back to prison, you just don't know when.
It didn't seem so hard to find a way out. Just hard to give a fuck.