What did I do?

To you, and you, and you?

Why am I the one

you tease, and hurt, what have I done??

Is it because I stand for the weak?

Do I have something you seek?

Is it because of the pimples on my face?

Or I beat you in a race?

Is it because I am kind?

Is it because I have an intelligent mind?

Why do you want me dead?

Is it something I said?

What the hell did I do?

To earn the wrath of you, and you, and you?

Did I grow too tall?

Am I so different from you all?

Is my church

the one that left you in a lurch?

Is it my accent?

Or because I'm from strange descent?

Or what the hell?

Is it because I can a spell?

Is it because of the clothes I'm in?

Or worse the color of my skin?

I'll never understand what I did wrong

But thank bullies, you have made me strong

And school taught me I can get through

In spite of you, and you, and you

A silhouette of white

sits contrasting the night sky. I was a painfully dull grey.

"I made you." She spoke, her voice loud like water hitting rocks.

"I didn't ask to be," My voice was salty and dry. I felt like the sands of a desert. "-why did you make me like this?"

Silence filled me like a jar of needles.

"We all deal with ourselves." She turned to me finally, water glistening as it streamed down her cheek.

"You didn't tell me how."

"What the hell did I do?" I yelled as I dropped the gun.

Blood leaked from the body and covered the floor.

"What you had to," Jack said "Now lets get the hell out of here!"

Jack was right, the Peace Keepers wouldn't give a single rat shit that I shot in self defense. I was going to prison, wasn't I? Anxiety filled my body and I... well I threw up.

"Shit!" Jack yelled, "Leaving some evidence behind Coral?!"

"I'm sorry, I..." I started.

"There's no time!" Jack yelled "Just pray that the Peace Keepers are to stupid to scan the vomit for your DNA!"

Jack rapped his arm around me and we left. As we walked down the street, Peace Keepers drove past us.

"Holy shit Coral!" Jack hissed, "Wipe that blood off your face!"

I did, using my jacket I got it all off.

"What are we going to do Jack?" I asked.

"I dunno," He whispered "But I'll figure something out..."

Time and time again I ask myself the question, "What in the hell did I do?" It is usually a cut and dry answer. Not this time. I don't know what I did. One moment I was partying with a couple friends having the time of my life. The next moment I have a bloody knife in my hands and I am covered with someone's blood. As I survey the scene, I notice I am in a dark creepy alleyway. But the most horrifying part of the scene is the body laying about 3 feet from me. It is the body of my best friend. Then I repeat to myself over and over again, "WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE?" And this time I can give no answer, because I don't know.

"What the hell did I do?" Sal asks, the words coming out raw, an exhale of emotion.

"What did you-" Crow blinks at him, confused, "you really don't know?"

"You've been ignoring me for days," he breathes "You barely even acknowledge me when I walk into a room and I can't- I don't know what I did Crow, whatever it is I'm sorry"

"You-" his expression softens, noticing the turmoil in the other man's eyes, "I thought you were dead"

"... You thought I was dead?"

"Everyone did."

His mouth is half-open, taking a moment to process the words. He shakes his head, still confused, "I was only gone for three days."

"No warning, no explanation, not even a note to say where you were. We have enemies, Sal, the situations worse than you think"

"God I'm-" He puts a hand over his mouth, sucking in a breath, "I really didn't think"

"Yeah. You didn't."

"I'm sorry."

Crow runs a hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling, clearly exasperated, "There are people here that care about you, people who worry, you can't just leave like that"

"I know - I... I won't, not again- I had a good reason, it was complicated but it's sorted now, it's all done"

There was a finality in the word "done", when he said it, the word stayed there. Crow could hear the barely restrained relief in his voice. Clearly there was something big he wasn't saying, something he had missed along the way. A thousand options clouding his mind, the anger melting into the worry it had been all along. He reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Not right now. Maybe one day"

"Whenever you're ready."

My hands tremble

wet and hot

Crimson stains my skin

stains the floor.

His chest heaves

His lungs fill with blood

His heart starts to fail

His lips bubble with blood.

Salt water drips down my cheeks

clearing away the grim of battle

I hear muffed screams

I tune the off.

He tries to speak

and fails.

He just tries to breath.

His fingers trace words in the dirt.

I try to keep him alive

I try as hard as I might

It isn't enough.

It didn't take long

He started to mouthing words

but they were silent

But I could hear the words

write in the mud.

"I do not blame you

this is not a fault.

You may have been

right once,

I was the enemy."

“What the hell did I do?!” He shouted the question, feigning innocence. But we both knew what happened.

The sweet taste of jelly and deceit still flooded his mouth, and sugar was still sprinkled on the front of his shirt.

He took from me what I most loved.

Never again would I be able to find a donut such as that one.

"What the hell is going on, what should we do," muttered Archbishop Vroll as he marched back and forth in front of the fireplace of his bedroom. He had been marching from wall to wall looking at his portrait, him setting in a chair staring at the viewer while holding a book and wineglass, as he marched to the side with his large ornate bed, then looking at a painting of the revelation of daniel as he marched to the side with his desk and bookselves. His dinner was left untouched on the finely carved table in the middle, directly across from the burning fireplace. He had already made marched 13 circuits with the same thought on his mind. What the hell just happened?

The monk, sitting at the table, Benjamin, sighed, tired of waiting for the Archbishop's response. Tapping his foot, in sync with Vroll's steps, he counted the steps it took for Vroll to go from wall to wall. Fouteen. "We don't have all night, the king would be wanting our answer before the morning"

"I know, I know" muttered Vroll as he continued walking, reaching the portrait before turning back. There were eighteen more steps before he stopped by the monk's side and picked up the king's letter, again, before setting it down, again. "I don't know what we should do. What do you think we should do, Benjamin? Whose side should we be one?

"While,"said Benjamin, as he thought. "The king is in the wrong, his army did technically steal the islands from Lord Michael and Lord Michael was right to counter attack. Therefore, I would say that it was not his fault that the King's son died, but the King's on fault."

"It does not matter whose fault it is, the King wants us to annouce that it is God's will to have war with Lord Michael in order to strip of his life and honor. And if we fail to do so, the king will probably attack this cathedral." snapped Archbisop Vroll.

"It does matter," Benjamin snapped back, "otherwise we would be lying to ourselves. If we allow this civil war thing to continue with God's so called blessing, then hellfire will await us all!"

"Fine, so you would have us all die as martyrs then!" growled Vroll as he continued his pacing. "Either reply, does us ill. Maybe I should call for Brother Peter and ask which one he perfers.

Benjamin, not wanting to have to call for Brother Peter to be woken up, but also not wanting to doom his eternal soul waited in silence and stared into the fireplace. The fire was getting low, so he walked over and tossed another two logs into the fire. He would need the additional light to write his reply, whatever it was, because his candle was running low. "Vroll, refuse the king and tell him what it is. A war to just to increase his own lands. If we are matyrs, so be it. Unless you want to us to burn as if we are two logs in the fire"

Vroll, turned to the fireplace, watching the logs burn. There was silance for a few moments, besides the crackling and pops of the fire. "Okay, Benjamin, you win. Write out our refusal." The monk got to work on letter, while Vroll sat back on a chair by the fire. What in the name of hell did I just do? Vroll thought as he watched the logs burn.