stareanddrive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stareanddrive) wrote2010-01-12 01:14 pm
stareanddrive) wrote2010-01-12 01:14 pm
Entry tags:
Week 33: hatred
There ain't much Rome actually hated. Not really. He didn't care that much about most of it -- plenty pissed him off, but hating something took a hell of a lot of effort. Had to work at it. Had to live off it. Nasty and dark and vicious living in your gut, all the time -- Rome had better shit to put in his gut. No room for hate on a good meal.
But if all you had to put in you *was* hate... yeah, Rome could hate then, and he'd done a lot of hating in jail. His dad. Himself. The punk who'd narced on the garage he'd been using. The pigs who'd busted him.
Brian.
Didn't now. He wasn't there now, and he'd gotten that old wound taken care of. But now he knew he *could*, if he needed to, and Rome walked around with the scarred-over hate still living in him, and this was the thing he'd learned about hatred: you could live off it, if you had to. If you had flat nothing else, you could always have hate, and that'd be enough to get you through.
But if all you had to put in you *was* hate... yeah, Rome could hate then, and he'd done a lot of hating in jail. His dad. Himself. The punk who'd narced on the garage he'd been using. The pigs who'd busted him.
Brian.
Didn't now. He wasn't there now, and he'd gotten that old wound taken care of. But now he knew he *could*, if he needed to, and Rome walked around with the scarred-over hate still living in him, and this was the thing he'd learned about hatred: you could live off it, if you had to. If you had flat nothing else, you could always have hate, and that'd be enough to get you through.
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