Current mood:	sleepy
Current music:	Roll Deep

Tyrannical Pt. 2
Would you kill someone to become famous? All the time, especially in history class, I hear of people taking other people's lives just so they can merely be noticed. With the pull of a trigger, a guy can become something instead of wasting away as nothing. People are always looking for the easy way out. Let's face it, they always have and they probably always will. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind. Bring on the conveyor belt sidewalks and mechanical devices that masturbate for you. Straight up, I took the easy way out. But everybody here knows that I wasn't planning on it, and that's the beauty of it all. For most of my life, I went unnoticed, most people at school wouldn't be able to tell you my name if you should happen to ask. That is, of course, before I became a legend.

It's been nearly two months since I blew away a monster among men and saved countless people's lives. He came in to my class, you see, and killed these two guys that were involved with his sister's murder or some shit. Talk about being bent on revenge. When it happened, I managed to hurl this chair at him and then I took his ass out with his own fucking gun. Damn straight. Who knows how far he would have gone? Hell, he shot me too! Don't even get me started on how much that fucking hurt. An entire week in the hospital, forced to eat shit food and watch even shittier television. I don't even like television. Nonetheless, you can still find my face in the newspapers, forever praising me and my heroic act. As terrible as it may sound, I'm glad that piece of shit came in to my class with that gun. It was destiny. Nobody else would have done anything, the rest of these kids are sweet like cookies with jam in the middle. I am the protector, the soldier - the unstoppable. Everybody waves and says 'hello' with their stupid fucking smiles when I walk down the street. The best part is the broads. I practically have to battle them off with a chair and whip! Right now, I'm seeing this girl named Rachel. She's pretty fit, definetely a prize-winner, and she just can't get enough of me. Not to mention she's a slut, which is always a bonus. I can always sense her looking at me when my head is turned, but when I turn back to look at her she quickly looks away as if she's being sneaky or something. The thought of it makes me laugh.

So anyway, we're at this post graduation party being held at a local college dormitory and things are starting to look promising. Everybody is fucking hammered and having the time of their lives. Pretty much everyone from my entire grade, even the losers, have joined in on this serious party. The scene is like an apartment building hallway except every door is wide open and occupied with a variety of euphoric, inviting drunkards. My room is more packed than a sardine can that was run over by a Mack truck. Rachel is on my lap grinding against my hardon and sipping from a bottle of some prissy cooler drink. I hope that english class kid can see me now from the afterlife. After awhile most of the people leave to retire to their own rooms and I'm alone with Rachel. She pounds the end of her drink and says "Let's go to our room.", referring to the seperate bedroom a few steps away. How sweet it is. We move to the next room and immediately jump on the queen size bed to get down to business. Rachel rolls over and gets on to all fours while arching her back to an astonishing degree, presenting quite possibly one of the hottest asses in existence. She looks back at me and says "I want you to take off your belt and put it around my neck like a leash, baby. Then, I want you to pull on it when you thrust. It feels so fucking good, trust me." I do as she says and drunkenly fumble with my belt, eventually managing to harness it loosely around her neck. Definetely not same shit, different day. She moans and wriggles while slowly pulling her tight, black pants down. I'm so anxious to fuck this bitch I can hardly breathe. I whip it out and mount her from behind, yanking on the leather belt with each thrust like how she asked. This is most definetely one of the best days of my life. Wait till the boys hear about this one. I start to really get into it and pick up the pace, still pulling the belt and occasionally slapping her ass. She starts moaning like crazy and shoves her face in to the pillow to prevent others from hearing her scream with pleasure through the walls. After a few minutes, I go even harder and she practically chokes on her passionate cries. Soon enough, my legs weaken and I arch my back to eject a nice little something that makes the world go 'round. Finally, I stop yanking on the sweat covered belt and feel a rush of relaxation. Rachel doesn't make a sound or move an inch. "Rachel?", I grunt. No response. I pull out so fast that the condom stays inside of her and her lifeless body tilts to the side. Oh my fucking God. What have I done? I begin to unbuckle the belt around her bruised neck and incessantly shout "Rachel!" into her lifeless face. I killed her. She's fucking dead.

I pace back and forth while staring at the dead teenage girl laying on my rented dorm bed. This does not look good at all. I'll be charged for murder, I'll have to go to prison, I'll be known as a savage killer, not a hero. There is only one way out of this - I have to burn this place down. No fucking way I'm going to jail because of this sadomasochistic whore. A few liquor bottles are in the kitchen that can be used as fuel. If I pour all the liquor on the bed and light it up with a lit cigarette it will all look like an accident and I'll be scott-free. Time to get moving. Just as I turn to the door it swings open. A drunken idiot, probably lost, stumbles in the room and mumbles utter nonsense. He looks up and his eyes go like dinner plates when he notices the deceased, naked girl stretched out across the bed. The unfamiliar man turns to me and asks "What the hell is wrong with Rachel, man?". My mind begins racing and I glance at Rachel, then quickly turn back to him and respond, "Oh, nothing man she's just sleeping. Had a bit too much to drink, y'know?". He starts to walk over to her and says "What the fuck is that shit all over her neck, man?". Things couldn't have possibly looked worse, considering how I still had the belt in my hands. He leans over to touch her and I run up behind him with the belt prepared for strangulation. I wrap the belt around his neck and we tumble to the ground while he struggles for his life. Two minutes later, I got two dead bodies sprawled out in my room. With haste I grab the various half-full bottles of hard liquor and dart back in to the freshly horrendous murder scene. The smell of the pouring liquor makes me cringe and within minutes the area is completely soaked. I take one last look and light up a Marlboro cigarette. I Take one pull, step out the door, and then flick it right in the streaming booze pool. A mighty flame spread and rose around the crackling corpses. The fire alarm goes off and I run from the burning evidence.

The now famous fire destroyed the evidence along with the neighbouring dorm rooms. Fortunately, most of my friends got out alive. Investigators and arson detectives concluded the blaze started from a fallen lit cigarette and the whole incident was a tragic accident. I was clear of any suspicion because everybody just loves the hero. It seemed as though I had gotten away for what I did. Until I got a package in the mail. Inside the package was a videotape that showed me commiting the double-slaying on that terrible night in the dormitory. Underneath the tape was a little note, signed by a guy calling himself 'The Boss' that said "You work for me now."