She canÕt live knowing she witnessed that day. The bodies lay hopelessly on the floor. Their fluid of life pouring leisurely out of them. All she hears is the shrieking from their throbbing. SheÕs frightened and now she knows this is one scene she canÕt ever look right through. The words easily departure from his lips when he cursed at all the blameless people, How he blasted bodies one by one, she still canÕt forget all the gooey red liquid squirting out everywhere. she still remembers the explosions All the body parts bursting into the warm nightÕs air. As she hid in the corner hearing the thunderous bolts of the gun, She noticed her last friend still standing didnÕt escape. How she heard her friend shouting from the top of her lungs, so loud that she heard the screeching sound effects her voice was making. As he finally disappeared she scurried out of the corner, surrounding her were acquaintances she had known. Without them breathing or in any motion at all she suspects that theyÕve passed on. Just as the tears falling restless from her eyes to her cheeks, then carefully dripping onto the gory ground. She had to stumble across that guy, she was determined to eradicate him and watch him die. When she finally found him she shot him three times. One for her best friend, Two for her one and only love, and Three for her revenge. Now she sits staring out the window hoping no one finds out, That the girl who killed him is the same one writing this out.
Three Times and Your Dead
September 1, 2007