dumpster fire.

“I really thought coming here would do me some good, y’know? I’d set myself straight, get a lil’ bit of fresh air, drink by the riverside. But—this place, this, this fucking County, God. 

Next thing you know, you’re trying to scrub your hands clean for hours and, even after all that, you’d still feel the guts and the blood slick on your fingers as you run through the Mountains, firing back without even looking, without even caring. Kill or be killed. And—when all of that was said and done, after countless people lost their lives and their homes and their loved ones? 

Boom. 

Fuck, I still recall the first bomb going off. Blinding. Ringing. 

The ones who still had something precious to them after the Holy War saw its end lost everything in an instant. Me? I was unfortunate enough to have the absolute fucking pleasure of being stripped of everything I held dear. Bit by bit. I saw some of my friends burning in hellfire, and then I—I had to watch as my husband faded into nothingness, slowly and painfully and, afterwards, I lost myself. I know I did, and, frankly, I don’t care.

This world is rotten, kid. Don’t hold out too much hope. We’re all doomed anyway.”