Victor-27

<p><em style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Everyone you trust to watch your back will eventually stab it.</em></p><p><br></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>My parents had really skudged up.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>The hatred for who they were and what they'd done far outlived them almost growing as time passed. Who hated them the most? Not the Wardens. Not the Chancellors on The Judgement Board. Not even the people in Khizmit who'd been subjected to their crimes.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>The person who hated them most was the sum of all their parts including I'd been told their proclivity for violent crime.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Me. Victor-27.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Khizmit had captured and killed the criminals my mother included and we-the lurpers the offspring of the criminals-were trapped in this cold hell not for the crimes of our parents but for the crimes we were sure to commit.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>What a load of slag! None of it mattered anyway. All that mattered to me was graduation. I couldn't do it alone. But if there was one thing I'd learned in prison it was this:</span></p><p><br></p><p><em style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Everyone you trust to watch your back will eventually stab it.</em></p>