i used to be happy
i'm fairly certain i was.
once- long ago, things were peaceful,
carefree, easy. i watched from a distance
as life lived itself.
but that was long before i awoke
to find myself entangled in this great black cobweb
of power, greed, deception.
and there he was, a great black widow
poised and ready to kill
i still don't understand why he chose me
there were hundreds, maybe thousands of
other doctors, power-thirsty and fallen from grace
who would gladly do his bidding.
but he wanted me, because i was the best
and no doubt i was, then.
he wanted me, because i was driven by goodness,
by my desire to help, by my desire to save.
and no doubt i was, then.
but that was before all of this
before my white-gloved, sterile hands
were sullied, soiled as my incredulous eyes stare in disbelief.
that hand, the one that made me who i was-
the great Adam Stanton, the surgeon, the brother, the friend-
honorable and true.
it was as if, in that moment, that hand
and the trigger it was gripping,
with the white of my knuckles, bare and exposed
disconnected itself from my clear, rational thinking
and, taking on a mind of it's own
was driven to action
not in a matter of minutes,
once all the facts were examined,
the consequences established,
but in a split second, judgement clouded by
passions, revenge.
when knowledge, the truth, your safety net
the very thing you live for turns on you
sometimes all you can do is act.
so my fingers extended
to grip that cold trigger
and i pulled.
my eyes narrowed on that speeding mass of metal
careening in a blur towards
the invisible red target hanging from his chest
there was chaos, screaming, running
but the world in slow motion became nothing more
than a series of staccato repetitions directed at me
and before i knew it
i was careening into nothingness.
but not before i saw him
surrounded by a crowd of onlookers
fall with a thud on that spotless marble
now stained by a sanguine puddle
like my flawless reputation
now torn to pieces
i would live on in the minds of my colleagues
not as a phenomenal, admirable surgeon
but as the man who pushed the Boss off the wall
and watched from the sidelines
as all the king's horses
and all the king's men tried
to put him back together again.
but it was a futile attempt.
he had fallen too far, too fast.
for man is never safe
and damnation is ever at hand.
maybe badness is all we have to work with.
maybe you have to make the good out of the bad.
because there isn't anything else to make it out of.
maybe a man has to sell his soul
to get the power to do good.
because man is conceived in sin
and born in corruption
and ashes to ashes
we all fall down.
