Page 126 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

I was a proud family man.

And I’d kill anyone who tried to destroy that.

EPILOGUE 2

THE FINAL WORD

This is the story of a man called Arran.

From the day he was born, his future looked barren.

Sold into poverty, violence and despair.

To a family with no morals, no dignity, no care.

Nothing to be proud of,

nothing to gleam.

Just another lad destined for the worker’s machine.

But nature versus nurture is a cruel twist to throw.

To turn his life into a rich man’s show.

Was his life destined to end in the way that it started?

Buried in an unmarked grave, forgotten, departed?

Ripped from a world that wouldn’t mourn his death.

By a brother he’d sworn to protect until his very last breath.

Yet, fate has a funny way of stepping in.

The rain that pours.

The earth that grows thin.

The shallow grave; no fancy coffin.

The power of his kicks as he screams,

won’t

be

locked

in.

The pain in his chest, but he soldiers through.

He has to escape; he has things to do.

And then mind over matter, he’s clawing his way,

out of a hole that couldn’t hold him on that fateful day.