I bathe in the river of ruin,

My head held under the running water,

I cannot breathe as waves lap at the shore.

The snakes of defeat slither around me

As I crawl at the bottom of my wet grave.

My mind pleads with the god of my father

To deliver me from this terrible fate,

But the thorns of despair rake at my palms

And I am dead, forever there

At the bottom of the river of ruin.

Anxiety claws at my mind

An icy thorn in my stomach

Bathing in that cold fear

What if they laugh

What if they think I'm dumb

I stutter and trail off

Words falling into ruin

My head pleads to start running

Crawl under my blanket and hide

Waves of fear drench my being

I can't breathe anymore

I don't talk in crowds anymore

"You're ruining this for all of us," she whispers cruelly with a bitter edge to her annoying voice. She couldn't possibly know the truth, that I couldn't possibly destroy this for them, at least not by myself.

"I wouldn't say so," I say back, not looking her in the eyes. "How could I bring this whole operation down? How? There are people that even I wouldn't mess with."

I'm lying again, I know. These people are worthless, as anything that breathes could tell. They've got money and power, but it's not as if anyone who might help wouldn't be too cautious, too late, too pathetic... If they're all locked up, no one can plead for help. Not where they're headed.

"I'd rather bathe in a tub of thorns than believe anything that you say," someone else, someone I might listen to, spits out.

"Well, Brian, I'm sure that I can arrange that if you wish. I'll have a thousand people just running to follow my word," I brag, as I definitely have the upper hand here, not as if that should surprise him. "I'd have you writhing in pain, pleading to be shown mercy. You know that no one here has the resources to stop me."

"Oh, please. I wouldn't be so cocky. You think that you're the only one with waves upon waves of connections? I'd say otherwise. I've got fifty guards under my belt that work at that prison you were hoping to send us off to. You aren't as powerful as you think," he says, shocking me.

"No one can listen to you if you can't be found," she smirks, pulling out a weapon of which I know I cannot fool.

"I think it is time for you to be pleading to be shown mercy, darling," he says, and those are the last words that I'll ever hear.

"So there I was, in the thorns of a bush, waiting for the perfect moment. I has to stay still, which was dreadful. I was right next to that bridge too, I was so nervous I'd mess up. The plan was to bomb the bridge to a ruin, but not until the first truck has passed.

I was spilling in fear, running into problem I wish I'd bathe better for. 'What if I sweat off my camo paint,' I kept asking myself. They'll see me for sure, the last thing I plan is sending waves and waves of pleads on why they should let me live. My family is mostly all, but I had a few more excuses just incase.

My thoughts are interrupted by the hum of camouflage Humvee's driving my way in a line, rather quick too. There's no way I'm not hidden. I crawl back a foot or two, waiting for the convoy to get closer. The first one passes, okay, this is it. I cover my mouth, so scared I think they'll hear me breathe. The first truck is about halfway across the bridge. I hover my thumb on the trigger to the detonation switch with trembling hands. Here I go.. 'Three... Two...'"

"Then what happened Papa? Did they see you?"

"No, my boy. it was a scary place, but I made it out alright."