wolf turing. three. cb.

I am a black sheep, a wolf in it's clothing. Wool pulled over my eyes for I dare not look at what my family does to children like me. Guilt ignites in me, then disgust, then rage - then a quiet, dull horror. And the worst part is I can't even tell anyone why I am such a sad state, why I spiral and spring and turn from docile to horrible in seconds. There is so much awfulness inside of me, inside of my home and my blood and my family, and yet I cannot ever speak of it.

Because I love them, my family. I do not love what they do, I hate what they do - but I cannot hate them. Their inventions kill children on our street, in my class, empty spaces once filled up with boys and girls like me. When the names are called I hold my breath and shake with rage, but to anyone else I am simply consumed by fear. Because I know what waits them in that arena, and I know who made them, and I cannot say it aloud.

I think I might become a Peacekeeper just so I had an excuse to leave. A reason for the District Three to hate me like they should. I deserve to be loathed for my last name. They can hate me for who I am to become - but not for who I am and where I come from.

They should. God, they should hate all of us Turings and what we do in the dark.