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Split
Split
Well, as I look upon this massacre all I can seem to think about is the clock ticking; (tick tock tick tock) it’s driving me insane. I see three bodies; it looked as if they were killed together or maybe at the same time, can’t really explain it. “Who am I, you ask? I’m Lock” (short for Sherlock I guess). Some people say I’m a reincarnation of him anyway, but I don’t know; I just do my job.” I’ve been looking for this killer, no, this one doesn’t deserve that title; he’s a Psychopathic Murdering Machine. He’s killed my friends, my wife, my daughter and even my dog. I’ve been on the hunt. He selects his victims in the strangest way, not by age, sex, or past transgressions, only if they knew or know me now. Soon everyone I know will die and he doesn’t even rape or touch the victims; it’s always just one cut, instant beheading. And you should know he’s smart; there’s no evidence pointing towards him. So soon after I leave the crime scene and go back to “The Pad” (slang for home) someone’s waiting for me. Oh it’s her, Lieutenant Haradon. She’s like the dick of the police squad (primarily because of the name). Why is she here? Humph I have no idea. “Lock!” Haradon yells. So like an idiot I say the first thing that pops in my head, “What do you want woman? Can’t you see I’m tired?” I look to the left and what do you know it looks like the whole police squad. “What do those bastards want?” Haradon points at me. “Why do they want me?” Then I passed out. I can’t remember what happened, but I do have a distinct feeling in my sphincter. Looks like Swali got to me, Somalian bastard. I was in a cell I guess, but the walls are bloody; I think maybe the blood is dried. I can’t explain this feeling, but being a detective, I just found one hell of a story. As I look around, I see people in other cells, but they look different; this must be like a government testing facility. Humph, I need to get out. Security looked real tight. I can only think of one way out. Nah, there’s no way this would work. I don’t even know why I’m trying but oh well, let’s do it, “uahh Oh my God! WTF?! (Abbreviation for what the Fu**) uahhhhhhh my heart!” The guard runs up and speaks in a funny accent, “Whaz goingz onz herez injmate?” He opens the cell door, and I hit him. (“Now if this would have happened in a short story or something I’d probably say it’s corny but it works. So kids when you’re locked up fake your death, okay? Ha I am a good role model.”) I take his key and like an idiot I examine the area making sure to be sneaky. This area is where they send really, really freakin’ crazy people. It looks as if they are being experimented on or something, so I look hard because I have no idea where I am, and then I run like hell. When I got outside, I realized like Toto and Alice that I’m not in Kansas anymore, well I think this is France. I walk for about three hours until I get tired, and then I take a break. I sit for a while until I realize someone’s behind me (“Hey cuz whacu doin in ma hood trikk?”) Being myself I say “what the hell did you just say?” And all I saw was a fist. When I awoke I saw his body lying there with no head, just like all the other kills. That’s when I realized it. I got up and ran like hell until I saw a car. I saw the plates said Missouri; as you can guess, I stole it, and I drove out the hoods of STL quickly. Then I realized everything that happened, all my research; all the crime scenes were for naught because…
There was a car accident on TV, and the volume was really loud (as he sliced another victims head off). Lieutenant Haradon was screaming, “you you look just,” and he beheaded her. The last words the Lieutenant heard were, “If I can’t have him, no one will have him ever”…
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brokenWingz may be an fallen angel or an immortal but my wordz last eternal
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