My hands were bleeding again...damn it. Fuck.
"Kimmie, sweetheart, I'm headed to work." my mother.
"See ya later Hun. There's some money on the table for Atomic today." my father.
See and this is where my story gets weird., in this situation on top of the gang rape, and the murder of my two friends, you expect my parent to be absentee fuck holes, but on the contrary, I had a fantastic home life. And that my dear friends, is was tortured me the most.
I mean its not like I was popular, or had a shit ton of friends, I just had Jesse and Dillon, but that was enough for me. And I didn't mind the bullying really, I mean no one was really a dick to me at school, bully's were pretty few and far between. The girls at school didn't know my name but they always thought my jackets and backpacks were cute.
So outside of school things were OK too. My parents really did love me, like way to much. They are super career minded, and they would give me anything. My dad gives me money every Wednesday to go to atomic and pick up some comics for myself and him, he never grew out of it, but then again no one does really. So after the accident my parents were very worried, well terrified was a better word.
"Counseling. You need to go Kim." my mother spoke.
"Fuck that." I replied back.
"Don't use those words with me young lady!" my mother yelled.
"Just relax Kim, we wont make you do anything you don't want to do." my father always took my side.
"Jim..." my mother said angrily
So needless to say, two months after, they realized that I would never be the same again. I would never been their beautiful baby girl, their ray of sunshine, or any of that shit. I was jaded now. I didn't give a shit about anything. Nothing was worth my while...well not nothing.
The cold night whipped over my body. I sat staring. My yearn for bloodshed was disturbing I know, but it felt right, not like justice, just like letting my hate and rage out on this city. I was bored, so I took out my two trench knives, they had no handles just a blade with holes for fingers. I spun them around my fingers, I was fast, really fast.
Maybe it had been my anger or hate, or something but in two months I willed myself to be a killing machine. And you know this wasn't for fun. All those other super heroes for all I know they were doing this for the hell of it. For shits and giggles. And that's the idea I kept in my head. That's what separated me from them. I was for real, and they...well they were just having fun.
My train of thought was interrupted. Two men just walked down the alleyway. It was a drug deal. Money exchanged, and then the drugs. Normally I wouldn't give a shit, but tonight it looked as though the receiver of this illicit substance was maybe fourteen. I cringed. After the deal I made sure the kid was gone and followed the dealer, we walked a little bit, turned at James and Tenth. He walked down a second alley, and I pounced.
I landed right behind the guy, my silence was terrifying.
"So how old was that kid?" I asked him, my voice was sweet but menacing.
"What? Who tha' fuck are you?" his Brooklyn accent was so stereotypical.
"Just answer the question fuck-face." I spit back at him.
"Oh fuck this, your just a little wannabe super hero like one of those uh, Kick Ass or somethin'." he said laughing.
I withdrew my trench knife, and held it to his throat.
"So I'm just a wannabe? Well who's real now, me or Kick Ass?" I asked.
"Fuck you." he said, his voice shaking.
"As you wish." and I slit his throat.
The blood gushed from his fat neck. It made me feel fantastic. But some of you might think that I did this because of that kid, or to get another drug dealer off the street or something, but the truth is that I didn't do it for those reasons. When that kid hears that Fatty McFat-fuck here is dead he will just find someone else to buy from. Killing one drug dealer wont do shit. I didn't do it for him. I did it for the pleasure of killing.
And that I'm sure makes me seem like less of a hero and more of a villain. Well think of me as both.
