I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
She has never given him reason to be angry before. Were he in a better frame of mind, he might have laughed at how absolutely fucked up this situation is. But, even if she had never inspired it before, his anger lives perpetually close to the surface. A therapist would have a fucking field day with him, no doubt.
Her words however, bring the anger bubbling abruptly forth.
Ears pressed flat, teeth bared, he spins and stalks towards where she lay, a frustrated growl on his lips. “I know exactly where babies fucking come from. I’m not a complete idiot.” His eyes flick briefly to the small bundle of white squirming by her side before quickly turning his furious gaze back to her. “Whatever part I had in her creation doesn’t fucking matter. Gritting his teeth, he presses closer. “You don’t want me to be her father and you never have.”
Abruptly, he falls back drawing a deep breath before growling darkly. “No one does.” Suddenly, he laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “And why would you? I’m a fucking piss poor option.”
He stares at her for a long moment then, eyes dark and cold with his fury. The fury that has been his defense mechanism for too damned long. In his youth, he’d pretended he could be cold and unfeeling. But after about the fifth fucking death, callous anger had taken it’s place. He couldn’t keep fucking pretending.
“I won’t stick my fucking nose in where I’m clearly not wanted,” he finally continues, his voice low now, a harshness grating the edges. His gaze flicks to the filly again, who is now struggling to coordinate her legs beneath her crumpled frame. “It’s better she’s not mine. She has a chance with you at least. I can’t offer her shit.”
Better to be an asshole than watch his endless fucking failures manifest in a child.
