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one - epiphany

There is dirt everywhere. Filth. Decay. Everyday, he trudges through it, like a good little soldier – yes sir. But now he stops, he looks down; the grime is on him now, in him now, a place deep down he can't scrub, though he rubbed the skin raw. The blood mixes with the grime, up to his knees now, but no, he's waiting for Barker, he can't leave. The street lights flash and spin, the backstreets they call home a colorful wheel of fortune.

It's in his throat; he's coughing, but it won't come out of his soiled soul. Mistakes slip out of buildings and shadows to catch him as he falls, whispering lies. There's no one to trust -- Barker taught him that, told him that, showed him that. This hideous epiphany.

The city grime reaches up to take him, and he staggers, shivers, succumbs…

No one to trust.