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Princess Ginger Drifter
07416a
I don't know why I killed him. He was rude, he was crude and he was boozed, but that wasn't it. I saw him making salacious propositions at some clearly underage girls, but I didn't care. All I knew was that I had a rock in my hand and I swung it and then his head cracked.
He hit the wall dazed, raising a hand to the hole in his skull brearily, "W-What the FU-" Was all he got before my second strike. I drove the stone point first into his throat, hearing a ghristly crunch. As I raised the stone again he slumped and began to grip the ruins of his throat with one hand, the other raised as if to ward me off. It failled. I brought the stone smashing through his hand into his skull, then twice again, after which he was quiet clearly dead. I shook off the little trance that I had been in and gasped as I saw my handiwork. It was brutal. I never suspected that I could have done such a thing and I had even less of a clue as to why I had done it. I tossed the stone as far as I could into the river, washed my hands, and tried to forget about the whole affair.
I went home and stripped the clothes that I had been wearing from my body. I tossed them into the burnables can in the right, gave it a bit of gas, and lit them. They burned too prettily. Then I went inside and took a too-long too-hot shower to cleanse myself. I pay extra attention to my hands and feet and all the tiny crevices that blood could creep. I cleaned, cleaned, and cleaned some more, and when I was done it was all I could do to fall onto my bed already deep asleep.
When I awoke I was calm. It was pouring outside. I remembered what I had done, to whom, though I still didn't understand why. A thousand thoughts flitted through my mind- Why had I killed him? The police would be after me- did I cover my tracks? I don't know, yes, they will, and yes I did, and whatever I hadn't managed the storm would take care of for me. A hundred more qu
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