A young girl, the friend of a friend, is walking down a street when a man jumps out of a van, kidnaps her, and rapes her. After he discards her and she finds her family, she returns to cutting and other compulsive acts.
Evil is the reward of free will, the bitter dregs of our true liberty. Shine, righteousness! Shine somewhere... anywhere? Where is there good in this indifferent world? Fire and blood, and dire, dreadful deeds clash complacently, crush our mediocre, shuffled mumblings. Gashes gleam the crusted dusty armor-- but honor, goodness have dimmed, at best mouldering on the brick-a-brac shelves of dilettantes.
I am one of those dilettantes. On some nights, when the winter chill presses icy fingers against the windows, I sit at the fire with some cider and recite with the ancients the legends of glory. Sometimes I write an aphorism in my commonplace book. The candle goes out, and I sleep peacefully.