Peephole
(Part two)
I started
counting in my head, if this was it, I at least wanted to know how long would it
take for me to die without air. When I got to twenty I was beginning to get
worried, maybe I didn’t want to die, at least not right now, or not like this.
It was a pretty lame way to die.
I counted to thirty and then I lifted my knee
and kicked “angry eyes” right in the balls. He of course stopped chocking me
and moved his hands around his private parts screaming in pain “YOU BITCH, YOU
BITCH”, I founded it kind of funny, for the first time ever I was watching this
guy below me crying like a little girl, well a little girl with a dirty mouth. I had the power now, I could have his balls
around my hand and control him like my fucking puppet, at least that was what I was thinking at the moment. Of course I could
be wrong, maybe I wasn’t going to become her “master” anytime soon. This was the moment he was vulnerable, he was
in pain, so I decided to take advantage of this. I lifted my leg and without
thinking it trough I kicked him in the face with all the strength I had. Blood
flew out of his mouth as he hit the ground twisting in pain.
“WADDA FUCK?”
he said, spitting blood into the carpet.
I again moved
my leg and kicked him in his pretty face, now there was blood all over
his perfect hair, and he was lying unconscious. I hoped he wasn’t dead. I approached his
limped body carefully and touched his throat trying to feel a pulse. He had
one. I sighed in relief.
The next
series of events I performed in a “zombie like” manner. I used the “disease sheets” to tie him up to a
chair, stuffed a pair of old socks into his mouth, searched his pants, found a
knife, grabbed a glass, filled it with dirty toilet water , sat in front of him,
threw the dirty water at this face and proceeded to wait for him to wake up.
Life is not supposed
to be easy. At least that’s what everyone tells you, and I guess it is true,
that is why you have to take control of it. Life is like a car, you are the one driving
it, if you want to crash it, you sure will. Sometimes you can’t help a bump
here or there without your intention, but that is no excuse to scratch it frequently and blame it on everyone else.
I guess I could
have let him kill me, sure I could have, but I didn’t, and I would not give him
the chance to try to do it again, at least not under my watch.
I smelled the
air searching for trouble up ahead, everything smelled salty, frisky. Sure
enough, peace was not on the horizon any time soon.
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