Vanity. Ares

Cross. Well, I felt victimised, I felt betrayed, but
mostly I felt nausea. A feeling in the pit of my
stomach as if it were too empty or too full. This
nausea subdued any feelings of fight in me and
made me more inclined to just want to sit in the
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AA
court and allow the procedures to occur.
This whole incident, unlike my previous
stint in prison, did not need much thought about
witness corroboration or maybe a cover-up or a
lie, or that I would have to remember a facial
expression I needed to pull in order to
authenticate part of a made up alibi. For this I was
rather glad, whilst I sat in the van, because there
was simply a need to get to the purity and light of
the truth. The light was my aim, which would be
revealed if we were able to stick to the incident
being fuelled by provocation, and total
provocation. How a person such as Myra could act
in such a way, and a way which I thought would
have at the least embarrassed me intrinsically and
then the prosecutor’s blame me for reacting
bemused me. I wondered this as the van pulled
out of the prison. Provocation was my line of
defence, and that in which I believed in,
regardless, as Mr Olatende had said.
After a few minutes as the van drove along,
my mind came to Burrito’s; avocado, guacamole, a
little Mayonnaise, fajita bread, extra parmesan and
perhaps a Coke or a Diet Coke to feel slimming. I
thought about these things because it was the
simple things that hit me when in that van and
freedom dangled. I thought about what was
happening outside of the van, hearing cars drive
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