The Only Escape (NS)

Who is Paul? Repentant? What is the point?

The rifle went off. Again and again. He laughed at the sight of it all, so... f*****g.... hilarious. The way they twisted as they fell, the way they cried out and tried to run but couldn't. It was always funny, always had been funny; always would be funny. There was no greater humor, no higher experience then the death of completely random people just for the hell of it. Well....actually there was. People who had got in his way, had looked at him wrong, who thought they were special.

"Please, just take the money and go." A frightened man cries out "It's all I have, I swear!"

____ grabbed him by the neck, staring deep into his eyes. He breathed in the fear, the pathetic sweat, as he chuckled softly.

"I don't care about the money." He started laughing "I heard you dilute my stuff so you can get more highs out of it. It's meant to be experienced pure. Now you are forfeit."

____ put his finger on the trigger of his large revolver and pressed it to the man's temple. His revolver was so shiny, because of it's gold finish and hard stainless steel make. It had been made in some workshop, one of ten thousand like it; limited edition. It had a six inch barrel lined up to the bottom cylinder, which was one of six that held under-powered .38 Special loads. ____ had a big grin on his face, the weapon had a closed system and an expensive silencer.

"I get to listen to you cry....and I get to shoot you." ____ chuckled out "No need for hearing protection."

The man before him was sobbing, he was trying to beg and stall, but nothing he was doing was making any progress. There was a click and somewhat loud noise, but not enough to make ears ring or bleed; music was often louder. ____ looked down at his clothing, taking out a piece of cloth to dab at it.

"Look what you did to my suit!" ____ exclaimed "You got your blood and brains all over it. I'll have to get this dry-cleaned."

Paul opened his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling. He slid his legs sideways and sat up, before pushing himself to his feet. He hurried over to the dresser and put his hands on it, leaning his weight upon the furniture.

He held the woman down and took the sharp butchers knife across her neck. She pushed and fought, choking on her own blood in agony. He laughed at that. This really was the life.

Paul pulled out the drawer on the far right and middle height. There was a series of little bags with about a handful of hair each.

He grabbed a lock of the little girl's hair and cut it off, before carefully lifting it to his nose. He breathed in the smell and then put it into a small bag, to keep it for later enjoyment.

He pushed aside so many little bags of hair, of different colors and lengths. It was right there, silencer and all. He took the revolver and put it to his mouth, biting down on the barrel with his teeth. It was more then he deserved, but he wanted the fastest way out. He closed his eyes and pulled on the trigger, he heard the hammer go up. He pulled a little more on the trigger with his hand and it clicked.

Author's Note

I know it's short, but in good films some things are short.