the blade itself
i've been fighting all my life, one enemy or another, one friend or another. i've known little else. i've seen men killed for a word, for a look, for nothing at all.. i've been ruthless, and brutal, and a coward. i've stabbed men in the back, burned them, drowned them, crushed them with rocks, killed them asleep, unarmed or running away. i've run away myself more than once. i've pissed myself with fear. i've begged fror my life.. i've no doubt the world would be a better place if i'd been killed years ago, but i haven't been, and i don't know why.. there are few men with more blood on their hands than me. none, that i know of. the bloody-nine they call me, my enemies, and there's a lot of them. always more enemies, and fewer friends. blood gets you nothing but more blood. it follows me now, always, like my shadow, and like my shadow i can never be free of it. i've earned it. i've deserved it. i've sought it out. such is my punishment.. i'm still alive!
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