Sleep was long in coming. The job must be done, and no one could do it for me. Facing tomorrow with such dread, I fought all night with myself in my dreams.
I just can’t do it. I love them.
You love them? How can you say that?? You keep them locked away, out of sight, and never even talk to them!
Well, that may be true. But I think about them a lot; doesn’t that count as loving them?
Look, it’s worse to let them stay and ignore them. At least this way they can die with dignity.
I can’t abandon them. They’ve been here for years. They’re part of the family.
You have to be brutal.
But I’m not the brutal type.
Sure you are – anybody can be. Go ahead, let go and let your inner brutality shine through. You’ll feel much better about yourself, I promise.
NO. I can’t do it. It’s murder!
Oh come on – it’s not murder. Think of it as mercy killing.
And I awoke. It was time for brutality. No prisoners, few survivors.
And it’s true, I did feel better afterward – refreshed, rejuvenated, ready to be brutal again.