Neal could not say that it got easier. In fact, if you had asked him that Friday morning, he would tell you that it had gotten harder because now he was asked, ordered really, to join in. His boots were not as hungry as Acardi’s and he didn’t smile at blood like Mycha, but he had done his share of handcuffing, holding down, and trying desperately to steel his nerves.
He felt alone in his struggle against his conscience. It seemed every other guard was able to silence or even kill what he had been wrestling with since the moment he passed through this godforsaken gate. But it was Friday. They would free the fox today. He took small solace in that, but it wasn’t enough to stop the feeling that started as a small knot in his stomach and now had taken over his heart and his neck. That feeling was his to suffer alone.
Nihilistic Porcupine 