It has been a year ever since Cedric tricked me by the lake on the swamps near my home. Now I feel like my time is coming to its end at the still rather young age of forty years. I have been given a life sentence. It means that now, when I’m standing by the fireplace in this ugly house of mine, it is the last time I’m standing in this ugly house of mine.
You know, it is good to see the advantages of every situation, but the thing is that in a situation that I’m currently in there are none. Of course I carefully considered all the options, weighed the pros and cons of trying to escape. But unfortunately it is not that easy to just run away – definitely not like in movies, because I’m under careful scrutiny and they are soon going to force me to say goodbye to my house and everyone.
I have sorted through my diary and finally realized what Heather meant by the warning. She said some very foreboding words to me once which I completely underestimated. “You will learn that something buried six feet under the ground can come out in the moment of your life when you least expect it to”, she said and then added. “And sometimes there’s just no point in digging for it, because you will find out that it brings more bad than good.” I freaked out a bit and read these words over and over again so many times that my head was beginning to hurt.
Did she know what was going to happen?
No, obviously not, I assured myself. She knew that she would be forced to fake her own death and she tried to warn me that such was likely to happen. But, even though I tried to comfort myself, I still felt terrified as fuck. Not only was I going to spend the rest of my days in the prison, I was also now experiencing this sort of the curse my mother was talking about. No, this is rubbish. Curses don’t exist, right? Who would believe in something like that? Not the same old realist me. But what if they existed and I was experiencing it? I fucking didn’t escape it. If only this stupid daughter of mine had never showed up in my house, I would still be safe and sound in China now. And I would still not have the faintest idea of Heather being alive (not anymore, though). Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I even let her drag me to Twinbrook? I have never been more screwed.
I do regret coming back to Twinbrook, but I do not regret having committed murder. I still think that I served up justice for Heather and in that I am proud of myself. I tried to tell that in the court, but they told me I was psychotic and sent me to a psychiatrist. When, I think, for the first in my life I told there the absolute truth of how I felt, hoping it would help me extenuate the punishment, I was diagnosed with APD. Also known as sociopathy. Whatever. It wasn’t that I cared what it was called, I only wanted to know whether it would help me avoid the life imprisonment. I was told that no, because my disorder didn’t contribute to the murder being classified as “manslaughter due to diminished responsibility”. The act of killing Heather was voluntary and they had proof; also, how ironically, in that they confiscated my diary. Seems that it may not have been the best idea to pour out my soul in the writing. Oh well, it’s not like I have anything to lose now. I have a copy on my computer, so at least there is that.
It did not help that I had already had the criminal record from some other crimes from the time I was a member of a crime organization. I did not betray the other gang members. I was so not going to let Cedric have even more satisfaction and recognition. And I feared they would kill me. Even though I know I am going to spend so much time in the prison, I am still terrified of death.
As I stand there, I stare at the flames yet again, 22 years later. Has my life change since that time? Definitely, because when I was 18, I was free to do everything I wanted. I was also a smoker and now I’m not. Not that it changes a thing as far as my punishment is considered. Have I changed? Not so much, I think. As I said in the beginning, I was not going to change, because I didn’t feel like I needed to fix anything in myself. I still don’t. I think that I did everything right, it’s just that the world seems to have a different sense of justice than I do. And it annoys me because if their minds worked like mine, they would understand that Heather needed to die. It was she who was in the wrong all these years, not me. It’s true, I can assure anyone that it is and I did so, but it did not help. It’s not my fault that they are too feeble-minded to understand the depth of my precepts. They will never have such great minds to understand what the world really is. And if they want toleration from me, then they will have their fucking toleration, but if and only if they tolerate my first. If not, then they can go and kiss my ass. I don’t feel a tiny bit less misunderstood than I felt when I began my diary. People should reevaluate their ways of thinking and not me!
I would speak my mind even more, but I’ve come to realize that people do not listen, no matter how many times I try to make them realize things. They think I’m a psycho and they are either afraid and tell me I’d heard too many of dictators’ speeches or laugh it off and tell me I should’ve been locked up in a madhouse rather than a prison. Such painful ignorance. And you know what? If there was one thing, I’d want to never do it again if I had the chance to play things out the other way, I would say that I wouldn’t get caught again. I would just throw Heather in those flames and would not care enough to even approach the lake. So that’s it. I would never get caught again. I would never do it again.
Note: *Throws confetti* I can say with a big dose of relief that it is the end of generation 4 and that, hopefully, I will not be doing Sam’s narrative ever again. Since this is the big moment I say goodbye to him, I have some reflections I want to share with you guys.
Writing Sam was excruciating (lol, ’cause it’s one of his favorite words, as you know) and it wore me down toward the end, and maybe especially at the end to his adventures. And although he was awful, shocking and totally different to what I’d had before him, you guys persisted and were there for me, not giving up the story in times when I was so desperate with the traits that EA threw at me, determined not to change them, I wanted to scrap the whole thing and put a big end to Sam. I am the opposite gender, I am a compassionate person, I am heterosexual, I struggle with self-consciousness, I am not a sporty person, I struggle with Math, as opposed to Sam’s logic and manipulation, I never swear – these are just some of the things that I needed to overcome when writing his narrative. Of course I and Sam have completely different views on the world and how it works, which is good for me since we all know Sam is not a sane person.
As to what I have in store for the next generation, I’ve planned, I’ve planned a lot, I hope to work more in putting the plans to action in the next few days, and what more can I say? I want to say a big thank you to all of you who have experienced this generation with me and to those of you who may be still new to my story and have experienced it on their own pace just recently. I hope to see you around during generation 5. Please leave me a comment below on how you enjoyed generation 4 and share your thoughts, it would be greatly appreciated. As a side note, I answered a question about scrapped plots for Sam for the award, so something similar to what Louise has just done, so you can check it out here if you are interested. Here is a complete summary of his generation if you need a refreshment. Have a great Saturday and see you in a week for the grand prologue to generation 5! ♥
Note 2: For some reason WordPress hates me and my comments get trashed so if you see I liked your post and I didn’t comment anything, please check your spam, because I never not leave comments.