Sunday, 20 November 2016

Casualties



I ate my sandwiches alone. It was my second week at the factory, but I was still unloved by my fellow colleagues. I looked around the restaurant, as I ate my mid-afternoon snack, and thought to myself that my colleagues were all cunts. Scum. Bastards. Slags. Whores. Dogs. I despised them all. Not because they didn't accept me, but because it was me against them. It was a war. There had already been one casualty, and there were going to be others. That's what wars are all about. Casualties. And if I didn't want to become a casualty, I would have to take out my opponents – one by one. Only the fittest would survive. It was me or them.  


There's going to be a war...
Extract taken from "The Londoners" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman.

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