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Date: 2010-10-31 06:14 am (UTC)
confidenceman: (edges (i like 'em rough))
Something about the whole situation didn't sit well in his stomach, like there was acid bubbling and begging to be let through, but he held it down, because if there was anything worse than doing a bad deed, it was pulling through with the heaviest of reservations and taking all weight away from the action altogether. One couldn't kill with any shade of uncertainty, unless one was just suicidal enough to think oneself capable of living with that crushing guilt for the rest of one's life. Couldn't stand outside an eatery and wait for Cajun-style shrimp, looking for shreds of humanity in one's target. No, that was just suicide, and he wasn't suicidal.

He just couldn't live with his wife anymore, and at least he was aware enough to make that judgment.

Starting to attention when he heard the stairs creak some distance behind them, he quickly stepped into the hall and turned around, his back facing the bedroom and gun aimed easily in the direction of whoever had been foolish enough to think themselves capable of interrupting right then. Maybe it was her, he thought viciously, and somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he could hear the quiet sniffles of a young body hiding safe under the bed.

"Show your damn face, woman," he breathed, the trigger warm under his finger.
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James "Sawyer" Ford

January 2020

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