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the end justifies the means.
"The end justifies the means." That was a mantra Sharyl had often repeated to herself. It was the phrase she used to rationalise choices and decisions that straddled the line of moral ambiguity. But now, as she sat alone in a darkened room, staring at the weapon in front of her, those words felt heavy, almost suffocating. Yes, the end might justify the means, but at what cost? How much of herself was she willing to sacrifice to win this battle with her father? The methods she employed had a way of coming back around, reminding her of what she had done and what she had become.
Yet, to rid herself of her father, to dismantle his empire once and for all, that was the prize. If she could remove him, cut him out, maybe she could find peace. Maybe, she could win. But,
winning had become a complicated notion. Did it mean survival? Freedom? Revenge?
Every step she took to end this war dragged her deeper into a darkness she wasn't sure she could climb out of. And now, it all came down to one question: could she do it? Could she actually take her father out? Not just in some clever, abstract way with a computer or a plan, but for real—with her own hands, with all the blood and mess that came with it?
The answer should have been obvious. The man had brought her into this hell, crushed her under his heel, left her for dead more than once. She owed him nothing. Less than nothing. Justice, maybe. But, she didn't even believe in that anymore. And yet, as close as she got, there was this knot in her chest, one she couldn't untangle. Fear, perhaps. Or maybe, something worse. Something deeper. A ghost she'd buried long ago. The remnants of a daughter's love, twisted and broken, but still stubbornly alive.
The end justifies the means. Maybe it did. But she had to decide what
the end truly was and whether she could live with the means it would take to get there.
Posted 11/25/2024, 2:00 PM