This is not an entry to any 750 word challenge, except for myself. I wanted to try to do one and this is the result. A short and bloody BTB. I hope to post a longer version of this story to fill in some of the holes and details. I also plan to do a sequel that will provide some closure and answer some looming questions.
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Gerald sat on the edge of the bunk and looked at his hands. At only 42 years old, his hands looked much older. The fingers on his left hand were bent slightly askew, and the pinky finger on his right hand was missing the two outer joints. On each finger was roughly tattooed a letter. When his hands were clenched in a fist, they spelled 'ZERO FUCKS'.
Standing, he turned to look at the stainless-steel mirror that was firmly bolted to the wall. He remembered the bright, eager face of 12 years ago. His future seemed secure with a job that was set to launch him beyond his own lofty goals and a beautiful wife who loved him and promised to give him a houseful of children.
His once dark and wavy hair was gone. He kept his head shaved close. The right eye was partially obscured by the half closed eyelid, marred by the scar that started where his hair line should be and continued down in a sweeping arc across his cheek and over his jaw. The left eye was still unmarred, wary and constantly moving.
At the corner of his right eye, two teardrops seemed to fall along his cheek. Two men who had chosen to invade his space and try to demean him. The first learned the hard way that appearances can be deceiving. The second, more cunning, carried a shank into the shower.
