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Okay and and what I would tell you is that I would rather I appreciate the fact what we did was we're under promising and over delivering today I think that's over the last text unfairly and there are great men and women then it may be incorrect but guess what we're doing what we're doing here is something I think it's important you know something may change again here's what I do know though right now this is one of the safest places on Earth it doesn't mean that nothing being transparent unfortunately for that there is some information that we have to go back and of how that 14 and then the shooter himself would be 15 total a couple hours prior to the does something like this that's what we call it after action review because again nothing is 100% we have reinforced area we have deployed some additional types
Chapter 4
90s ā Start of the Nightmarish Descent
āThe lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade
You make the change
You rearrange me ātil Iām sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
Thereās someone in my head, but itās not meā ā Brain Damage, Pink Floyd, The Dark Side of the Moon (1973)
The first chill of autumn was biting hard at Killington, Vermont, a stark contrast to the lukewarm shame that settled in my gut. 1990. The decade stretched before me, a blank canvas I was already splattering with my brand of self-destruction. I was working at the ski resort, a faceless cog in a machine designed to extract money from vacationing flatlanders. My job was insignificant, but my hunger, both literal and metaphorical, was not.
I was caught stealing food. Not a heroic larceny born of desperation but a pathetic act fueled by a craving I couldnāt articulate. It was the taste of something forbidden, something that filled not just my stomach, but a deeper, emptier space inside. That space, I was beginning to...
