preview

Personal Narrative-Motionless

Better Essays

Motionless I could have let him run but where would be the fun in that. As Dave Allen, 19 year old Kings Cross crack dealer sprinted down the empty alley, all I could think of was which part of his body would a bullet make him hurt most. When I finally fired the bullet, I could hear it enter and shatter his pelvis, I knew I’d hit a kidney. I wistfully strolled over to his groaning body and took my favourite knife out of my coat pocket. As it passed cleanly through his spasming abdomen, I thought to myself how nice a olive wood handle would look instead of the deteriorating plastic handle that had moulded itself to my hand after so many ritualistic, accident stricken ‘investigations’. I relished in the rush of cold, blooded murder, it felt …show more content…

I knew a great strip joint where the owner was guilty of every kind of tax fraud under the sun; I let him operate for free drinks. As I entered, the deafening hum of dubstep vibrated my very conscience and my thirst was amplified. There was a new girl on one of the poles, she looked like she was fourteen. At least five crack addicts just stared at her skinny body with gaping mouths so wide open I could have fit my fist in them. I thought to myself; these creeps are justifying their paedophilic inclinations. I then chuckled aloud reflecting on my own psychopathic tendencies. I reasoned that it was all relative to one’s taste. The great thing about Kings Cross is everyone’s crazy which makes you content with your own problems. I ordered a Glenlivet, 15 year old on the rocks. It soothed my pounding headache and allowed me to focus on the real agenda; which chick would I most like to see with a knife through their skull. I laid my eyes on a group of blondes in their late twenties that looked like they were here to celebrate. I slowly made my way over and strategically tripped into the one that looked most drunk, she had long, tanned legs that formed into a great ass. I spent fifteen minutes warming her up before offering her some coke. We made our way drunkenly to the men’s. I pulled out the little envelope with the ‘stuff’ and we used my credit card to take turns snorting every last spec of crack. We made our way out of the club and on the way down the same alley Dave Allen had run down a few hours ago, I asked her

Get Access