“I don’t deserve one….scratch that. I don’t want one. After all, seeing red is what got me into this mess to start with, so something so literal makes sure I remember it. What good is a mistake or punishment I forget about?” it was if on cue that he got a refill of his own, offering her a sip of it: they did talk about sharing it, after all.
“I make a hell because life’s too stubborn to give me one: and that’s what makes it worse. A man craving for a punishment no-one wants to give him. Not a proper sentence, or a proper prison to wait it out in. Instead, I was given House arrest and a returning spot at a job I only applied to out of spite.
…What am I supposed to do now?”
She took a sip of his coffee, pondering her response. “You learn from it...You remind yourself by keeping it in your mind. But allowing yourself to see only your mistakes is foolish.”
“That is your punishment. You aren’t given your punishment you want. You are paying your time in your way. You try to make up for what you’ve done. You make your life worth it.” She wasn’t sure if she was crossing a line, however, she did the only thing she felt she could do. Her arms wrapped around him, hugging him.
“I spent years kicking myself for not being the one who interrogated that son of a bitch.... I still blame myself. If I had been the one, I’d be dead, and he’d be alive today. We make our own mental prisons, our own mental hells. It’s what we do. It’s how we punish ourselves. Living with the thoughts is what we get. It’s the prison that we deserve.” She knew it wasn’t healthy. But it was what she lived with.
“Yet....would they want us to be like this....?”
