Personal Narrative: The Guy Out The Way

I didn’t kill him. Did I? I forgot. No I hit him. It didn’t kill him. Or did I hit him? Arm? Leg? No, it was stomach. Chest? I couldn’t have killed him if I shot his chest. There are bones there. I’m crazy. The creaks grow louder. I finish my email as I open the door to my office. I take the gun and point it to myself.

Walking around the scene i seen at least 10 bullets, blood splatter everywhere. As i walking up to the body i see that he has three gunshots. I go into his pocket, i pull his wallet and see that it's his id the identification says “ Matt Walmer”. His girlfriend runs up to the scene with tears bursting out of her eyes and loud bloody screams echoing.

His entire face is cut up, blood pouring out. Both of us know he's beyond repair. My hand shaking, I bring out my phone to call the police when the hurt man's hoarse whisper tells me to stop. "We ne--need help--" I

You hear sirens after the man hits the floor in agony. When the police find you in the room, holding a gun and a man laying on the floor they are proud of what you did, calling you brave, and commending you on protecting your sister. You are aghast at what has

“Why doesn’t it hurt?” he mumbles to himself, looking down. He doesn’t feel like he’s been shot. The blood confirms that he has, but there’s no pain. The only thing he’s felt at all was a sensation like being punched, when the bullet first went in. And his legs are falling asleep from the strange position he has them in. That’s all.

“Okay so we found the bullet, but we need to get it out before it causes more bleeding, so I’m gonna give you some medicine to go to sleep, and when you awake you will be bullet-less and all bandaged up.” The doctor said.

I wait for what feels like forever until the door opens again and red light is welcomed in once more. Someone new enters the room from behind me. It sounds like my father. The boots are wet and make a sickening slap each time the contact the ground. He takes incredibly slow steps to make his way towards his me- his lowly subject.

As he left the apartment and made his way up the hall to the elevators at the opposite end, he tried not to think about the dream that seemed determined to be thought of; but as if from a buried memory that had forcefully unearthed itself from the shallow grave of his subconscious mind, speaking without intending to speak, he heard himself say, "Who was

On 10/02/2017 at 0017 hours, units were dispatched to 627 Central Ave for a report of a Domestic involving a knife. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I located the accused female in the bathroom.

The man on the rooftop was dressed completely in black, from his shoes to the suit he was wearing under his knee-length trench coat. He glanced at his watch. 12:05. In another 10 minutes, he would be done with the deed. He turned quickly, coat flailing in the wind, and headed for the stairwell. Once inside, he grabbed his rifle, and the silencer he had recently acquired. He had been practicing his shooting for several weeks to prepare for this moment. He hurried to the window, made sure no one was watching, though being so late, who would even be looking anyway? He pulled the rifle to his shoulder and waited. Two long minutes passed before he finally saw his target. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. Looking through the scope, he saw the man crumple to the ground in a heap. Satisfied that his work was done, the man in black packed up his gun and left through the stairwell, sliding down the ladder to get to his car that he had left in the alley next to the building.

The rags swarm, He pulls his trigger again, but his arm is pushed up, the bullet blasts through the plaster ceiling, the dust slowly falls. The crowd grabs him, pulls him down. Their many hands pull, dragging him to the ground. He fires again, the crack hitting

After what felt like hours but was only a half-hour of picking up dead body after dead body. I left my position to head to the ravine to retrieve more dead bodies. Their I seen my good friend sergeant Halcrow lying there with a gruesome injury. His abdomen had been split apart by bullets. I seen this and it remind me of hunter starting to gut his kill with a knife after shooting it. I came over to my friend to look at his injury.

He walked down the short hallway that led to the lobby. When he reached the end of the hallway, he peered around the corner to get a picture of the situation without revealing himself. His heart skipped a beat the moment he laid eyes on the gun pointed at Kelly. Before anyone noticed his presence, he ducked back. Next, he grabbed his gun from its holster and raised it up. Then he took a deep breath and quickly jumped out into the lobby with the gun pointed directly at the gunman.

It was almost midnight when he caught up to me. I knew it was time. I picked a spot next to the large cave I found under the brush. He was coming quickly and I heard the dogs with him. When he was within range I turned slightly and yelled in pure terror, or thats what he thought. Waiting for him to shoot I pretended to struggle and and scramble in the brush while he pulled out his pistol. I knew the way it worked, I had been in his dungeons listening to the gun shots for weeks. I knew he would shoot my arm first to stop me, then my legs, then one last shot in my heart to kill me. I waited for the first shot. It grazed my arm but that wasn 't good enough, I yelled as if it struck my heart, then fell into the pool as he fired off the last

the paramedics came into the room right behind the police and attempted to do anything to bring you back, but there was nothing they could do.