-=rooty987=-
07-01-2005, 08:53 PM
This is part one of my story.
No title
There he lay, peaceful. Alone. I stood there watching him. I had it in my hand, the knife. What had I done? Why had I done it? I could feel the tender blood dripping down my hand and leaking through my fingers and into my palms. If I only I had controlled my anger. If only I had thought why he did it. I turned and walked away, I turned my head around one more time and felt a tear roll down my soft cheek. I turned back and walked home. It was dark, dark beyond belief. My head was full of anger and I couldn’t see clearly through the mist of my troubling thoughts. He hadn’t said much to me, why did I take it to such extreme measures? It all started that week….
I was at school, on my own. As per usual. I am classified as a loner, a freak. He, the boy I killed, was the worst person I knew! He mocked me, made me a joke. It felt like being in prison inside your own head. He made me cry at night, made me feel pain I shouldn’t have to feel. I got angry, too angry and I shouldn’t have lashed out but I did. I hit him. He got angry too and told me too meet him, meet him at 12.00am. when it was dark. That was when I started to plan my revenge. It was stupid, yeah I know that now. It was just suppose to hurt him, just 1 slash. But as soon as I started I couldn’t stop, I started with his chest, then his arms! I was getting pleasure out of hurting someone, I was starting to feel what people felt when they mocked me.
I got home and my father was sitting in the kitchen. I could tell he was angry so I just brushed past him; the knife was still clutched within my hand and I could just tell this wasn’t going to turn out well….
No title
There he lay, peaceful. Alone. I stood there watching him. I had it in my hand, the knife. What had I done? Why had I done it? I could feel the tender blood dripping down my hand and leaking through my fingers and into my palms. If I only I had controlled my anger. If only I had thought why he did it. I turned and walked away, I turned my head around one more time and felt a tear roll down my soft cheek. I turned back and walked home. It was dark, dark beyond belief. My head was full of anger and I couldn’t see clearly through the mist of my troubling thoughts. He hadn’t said much to me, why did I take it to such extreme measures? It all started that week….
I was at school, on my own. As per usual. I am classified as a loner, a freak. He, the boy I killed, was the worst person I knew! He mocked me, made me a joke. It felt like being in prison inside your own head. He made me cry at night, made me feel pain I shouldn’t have to feel. I got angry, too angry and I shouldn’t have lashed out but I did. I hit him. He got angry too and told me too meet him, meet him at 12.00am. when it was dark. That was when I started to plan my revenge. It was stupid, yeah I know that now. It was just suppose to hurt him, just 1 slash. But as soon as I started I couldn’t stop, I started with his chest, then his arms! I was getting pleasure out of hurting someone, I was starting to feel what people felt when they mocked me.
I got home and my father was sitting in the kitchen. I could tell he was angry so I just brushed past him; the knife was still clutched within my hand and I could just tell this wasn’t going to turn out well….