There's a thin paper wall in front of me. So thin that it feels like the slightest breeze will tear it to shreds. Behind I can see shapes writhing. Backs and legs and shoulders. Fingernails and teeth. A mass of flesh. An orgy of conspiracies. Shadowed heads look up from the huddle, sharp beaks threatening to pierce the skin separating us. But they never do. They always turn back to their secrets. I can't touch the paper. Its too far, I can't reach it!
Fucking circumstances. There are no circumstances! It wasn't circumstance that raped Faith's memories. It wasn't circumstance that delayed the shipment of explosives. It wasn't a fucking circumstance that blew up the bell tower!
Why do they keep saying that word. Its haunting me! Voices in the dark whisper it. Everyone but me knows the truth and they mock me! They mock me with their little jokes. I'm just a clown to them. Crazy Jeremy, let's play a trick on him. Let's see him squirm. Trick or fucking treat! Fuckers!
The first time it surfaced in my mind like a jellyfish through black harbour waters. Then Faith said it. Then Eddie. Then that Russian cock-sucker Yuri!
What are you afraid of Jeremy? You've got a gun, have some fun!
We're a community of circumstances. Motherfucking circumstances!
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