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White House Narrative

Decent Essays
I don’t know who I am or how long I’ve been here. I’m in a small room with metal walls, ceiling, and floor. I can almost see a reflection on the wall. I detect some white, and some orange above it, but it’s nothing more than blurs. I am only wearing some kind of black, skin-tight underwear. I reach to feel the wall in an angered, feral state. It feels smooth. The room is empty: just three holes (two inches in diameter) on the ceiling, and a camera on a vertex of the ceiling. The holes look about six inches in depth. I can’t form a single thought. I notice tiny, spherical holes in the veins of my antecubital space. I am fed up being here. Suddenly, I feel my will return. I begin to realize the holes in my arm are from a needle. I can only…show more content…
I’m wearing some sort of ghetto, superhero costume. I’m wearing a black long-sleeve with a red shirt over it, black cargo pants, Nike basketball shoes, two red cloths tied above and under my eyes, and pilot goggles. I’m in a worn-down kitchen of someone’s home. There’s a fat man sitting on a single chair next to a small table with jeans and a white shirt with yellow stains on it. He’s white, has blue eyes, and has brown hair with a clean-shaved face. The kitchen has a rusty sink completely full of unwashed dishes, a single light bulb on the ceiling slightly illuminating the room like a horror movie, and a closet with blood coming out of it. I open the closet to a putrid smell and sight of a girl, at most nine years old, brutally beaten and raped. She has pale skin, blue eyes, and long, brown hair. I lift her up and take her out of the closet. Her nose was bashed in an inch with a crowbar, and cuts and bruises covered her face and body. The smell and sight of the wounds almost make me vomit. I was too…show more content…
. .” the man begged.
“Fuck you!” I said just before watching the blood splatter against the wall. I filled the house with gasoline, lit a match, and watched the body of the man burn in hell. I took the girl’s body, and escaped the building, she deserves better than the fate of hell. She deserves to rest in peace. People need to know what the man did to her. I killed a man because he brutally beat and raped his daughter. She wasn’t just a little girl, she was innocent. As I stand in front of the woman with a gun pointed at her head, I realize she knew what she was doing when she shocked me. She was trying to tell me to trigger an adrenaline rush so I could be fast enough to escape. She too was innocent. I may not remember her, but I can’t kill her. I dropped the gun, and ran out through the vault door. I took a glance at my reflection in a window. I have Caucasian skin, red hair, and green eyes. I saw a door that said “exit” on it, I opened it, and ran.
*Two months later,
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