Chewing On Glass…

“It’s really easy when you think about it,” the man across from him says in a casual tone as he tries to get comfortable in the steel chair. “What is easy?” He asks. “The first kill, your first kill,” the prisoner across from him answers, hands folded in a prayer position. “How could it be easy to kill someone?” He asks looking deep into his eyes. “How could it not? There’s not much to it. Me or them? The choice is easy. Self-preservation. There’s nothing difficult about killing,” he answers in the calmest of ways. The lawyer across from him writes some things down. “Some would beg to differ on your opinion. Some of the very men that surround you now in this building. Many of them are suffering in silence and trying to get a grip on what they did,” the lawyer lays out cryptically.

The man unfolds his hands, crosses his arms, and leans back as though annoyed by this train of thought. “Guarantee they never killed anyone because they had to,” he says. “You may have me there, but is there any other reason to kill someone? Other than you had too? The lawyer asks. “Stupidity, wrong place at the wrong time, and the list could go on and on,” the prisoner smirks. “What an interesting point of view,” the lawyer comments. “Some choices are not made because they are what you necessarily wanted. Some choices are made for you before you even have time to reflect on them,” the prisoner states. “Are you back peddling?” The lawyer asks to no response. “So, you are saying. What is it that you are trying to say? That you didn’t kill those people because someone or something made that choice for you, or are you trying to prove to me that your actions though guilty are in fact deserved by the nature of the situation?” The lawyer questions. “Because neither of those are going to work. You are neither crazy nor not guilty,” the lawyer says to him.

“Thank you for your honest opinion about what is going on here, but some may beg to differ. Those boys made their own choice when they decided not to run. They made their own choice when they raped and kidnapped those girls from their school, and the state made their choice even more clear after they let those boys go for. What was it again? A lack of evidence,” the prisoner shakes his head. “A lack of evidence,” he repeats in dramatic fashion. “Could you imagine watching on as the monsters that took your daughters were allowed to walk free?” The prisoner asks. “The families of the victims were in the beginning stages of an appeal,” the lawyer states. “The first trial was rushed. The state thought they had an open and shut case,” the lawyer states in a loud tone breaking his control over his emotions for only a second.

“Fuck your appeal. Fuck your system,” the prisoner exclaims. “I am the mother fucking appeal, the judge, and the goddamn jury. Don’t you raise your voice to me asshole like you aren’t part of the problem. I did what you all should have done in the first place,” the prisoner shouts. “Yeah, you are a real goddamn hero,” the lawyer throws into his face. “More of a hero than you will ever be,” the prisoner says in a cold tone. “That’s right. You and your kind have no idea what it takes to do the right thing. None of you have been to hell and back like I have. I bet you haven’t witnessed the true nature of man with your own two eyes like I have. The monsters people like you let roam these streets. In some instances in life evidence or no evidence justice must be served,” the prisoner slams his hands on the steel table in front of him.

“And if by some long shot you have seen the things I have seen. Then you are too chicken shit to do anything about it like I have. That isn’t my problem,” the prisoner finishes his emotional speech. “Violence doesn’t solve anything. We have law and order for a reason,” the lawyer says, collecting his emotions. “Yeah, how is that working out for society? Murders, rapists, and God knows what else walking these streets. Walking my street, my neighborhood, and hurting honest hardworking people. Look me in the eyes and tell me those boys deserved to live. After what they did,” the prisoner demands. “We don’t know what they did or didn’t do. Couldn’t prove it in a court of law so we had to let them go as a society. But maybe with the new evidence we could have done something about that,” the lawyer huffs. “You weren’t going to do shit,” the prisoner barks. “We can’t go locking up everyone based on rumored accusations,” the lawyer states in an official tone.

“Rumors? Those boys confessed to everything,” the prisoner says. “I’ve heard the tapes. They were under duress and then you murdered them. All you got there is evidence against yourself,” the lawyer lays out. “Oh, so having something stuck where you don’t want it is duress now? Odd during their trial the defense stated those girls wanted what they got. Odd how perception changes the facts,” the prisoner glares. “Very odd,” the lawyer says in a sarcastic tone. “I can’t speak for everyone in the world, but I’m sure most sane people would agree being brutalized by a night stick isn’t the same as nonconsensual sex,” the lawyer mocks. “I’m pretty sure some would not agree with that opinion. In fact, let’s get a jury of my own peers in here to find out,” the prisoner says with a glare. “Cute,” the lawyer says annoyed. “Just because those boys couldn’t take their own brutality. Just because they were weaker than their victims doesn’t mean I didn’t do the right thing,” the prisoner justifies.

The lawyer looks into the prisoner’s hard eyes. He sees the madness buried deep within and the justified reasoning that blankets the surface of his face. The lawyer stands up and packs his things. “I’m done in here,” he calls out loudly to the guard down the hall. “Tired of the freak show already?” The guard shouts back. The prisoner crosses his arms. “This is why the system is broken. We imprison those willing to do the right thing. While letting the truly guilty. While letting the evil of this world walk free,” the prisoner says in disbelief. The guard opens the cell and walks right past the lawyer to lean on the table. “What was that freak show?” The guard asks with his face in the prisoner’s face. “You think we aren’t doing what we are supposed to be doing out there?” The officer asks before his body falls right into the steel table with a loud thud. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a loud gurgling noise as he reaches for the pen lodged into his throat.

“You know you might have had a point earlier,” the lawyer states. The prisoner reacts quickly, Grabbing the guard by the head and slams it harder and harder onto the table until the guard stops making any noise at all. The prisoner looks up at the lawyer breathing heavily. His hands are covered in blood and wears a confused look on his face. “The choices are never easy. Guilty or not guilty they all come down to circumstance. Those boys got what they deserved. You deserve the same opportunities that the state provided them. Only I hope you get away with it. I hope you make the best of what it is that you started. The state will never let you walk free if they get their hands on you. The state can’t afford for you to be out there.” They look at each other in silence. “But they never will? Will they?” The lawyer’s words hanging in the air.

The prisoner stands there stunned as the lawyer takes the keys from the guard. The prisoner’s hand restraints fall to the floor as the lawyer hands the prisoner the keys. The lawyer grabs the pen from the guard’s neck as the prisoner undoes the rest of his restraints. The lawyer pulls the pen and more blood shoots out of the wound. He hands the prisoner the bloody pen. “You are going to need this. To make it look official and all. It’s the late shift. Stay low and stay hidden,” the lawyer advises him and he takes the pen. “Don’t take time to reflect as you said. Don’t think just do it,” the lawyer says, backing out of the way. The prisoner looks at the bloody pen in his hand and looks at the lawyer one last time. “You’re welcome. Not all justice should go unserved,” the lawyer says as the prisoner exits the room.

A story from Broken Thoughts Vol. 2: The It and The Is…

Available On Amazon

The series continues with a fresh volume of Broken Thoughts from the mind of Layne Ambrose. This collection combines everything Ambrose is known for. A dark collection of short stories, poems, and of course Broken Thoughts. Fans of chewing-on-glass.com will feel right at home with this volume on their book shelf. Packed with never before published content..

New Stories exclusive to Volume 2

Strangers to Ourselves: When a young woman finds herself in the depths of a living hell will she succumb to the pressure or will she become something more? Do any of us know who we are or are we all strangers to ourselves?

My Nightmare: A vision of insanity? An internal warning? What do our dreams ever mean anyway? Postpartum takes a twisting turn on the soul. What’s real and what is only a waking nightmare in your head?

Like A Virgin: Every killer has to start somewhere right? In this sequel to the controversial story Let the Good Times Roll from Broken Thoughts Vol. 1. Like A Virgin continues to drag the pain, the blood, and the violence down a horrific path. Shedding some light on how all this began and possibly where it is all going.

Volume 2 digs even deeper into Layne Ambrose’s Broken Thoughts. Pick up your copy today.

Enough with the sales pitch… This is a quick story with a couple of quick twists… Fair warning this one is way shorter than the other stories found in Volume 2… Which I thought about previewing instead… but I really flexed out on some long stories for that book…

So I wanted something with tighter constraints… This story starts with the genesis of a story type I have done many times before… Crazy person behind bars… behind glass… talking one on one with someone else… typically a sane person… nothing new there… but what if they were both crazy?… What if the psycho path said things that many of us actually believe?…

Imagine if I just left it like that?… Of course the guy is wrong… two wrongs don’t make a right… but it is one hell of a start… No… the man is wrong… Eye for an Eye only works until we are all blind… Fine I’ll stop… but there is a point in there somewhere…

This is a fun little story that was nice to look back on… I don’t have any real deep emotions about writing it… I think all I really had to say was left on the page… Sometimes that’s all a story really is… for better or for worse… 

Hope all is well…