Blurred Lines
By: David K. Montoya

The voices in my head mocked me as I cried. I was not weak and I had control over my own actions, but most of all I was no monster.

I valued life, especially human life!

Yes, my hatred ran deep and hot, but murder?

Was I that far gone in the fantasy of my own thoughts, created solely in my mind as an escape from the pain of living my daily life?

But, the voices took over and became too powerful, as they became more than a figment of my imagination.

They became real…

So I killed the drunks.



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