Carolyn Lee Adams

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For a while there's nothing I can do but stand in the middle of the road, because going forward hurts too much. Going forward means continuing to try, when trying is so hard. The world is filled with idiots and assholes and monsters. Where are the guardian angels?

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And in the echo of that gladness, horror blooms within me. In its own strange way, it's a horror as deep as any I've experienced so far. I've succeeded in taking another human hostage, in making him urinate on himself. I made a plan to torture someone, and then I carried it out, and it satisfied me to do so. As much hurt and hell as the Wolfman has caused, I don't want to be his judge and jury, his jailer and tormentor. I don't want to be that person. I want to be good. I don't want to fall into a big, black pit of darkness, because what if I can't get out?

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I have no idea what to do, and everything is starting to feel dangerously hopeless. Hopelessness is not an emotion to be indulged. On the heels of hopelessness comes defeat, and even though everything seems pointless and impossible, I still want to win. Underneath my confusion and utter, bone-crushing fatigue, even though I don't know much of anything at all, I still know I want to win

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I'm not going to be raped. I'm not going to be murdered. I'm going to bring him to justice so this never happens to anyone else. I'm not going to think like a victim. I'm going to think like a winner. Because that's what I am. I'm Ruthless, by God, and I need to act like it