bonnie & clyde [phan]

d e a t h m a r c h

<all is fair in love and war, i'm still rotten to the core>

      I bend down to pull on my boots, the "new leather" smell dulled by the smell of iron.  I pause, close my eyes, and inhale the familiar sent.  Ah, yes, that would be the successful "business man" that lived on Main Street, maybe a hint of Mr.Johnsbury as well.  A chuckle escapes my lips as continue to pull on my boots.  They never stood a chance, the poor bastards.  After both boots are on, I slowly stand up.  Before proceeding, I crack my knuckles.  I smirk as the snap resounds loudly throughout the empty house.  That's not the first snap these walls have heard, and it certainly won't be the last.  The smirk doesn't leave my face as I walk to my closet to grab my leather jacket.  While lifting it off the hanger, I take a second to admire it.  Small, tear drop shaped patches litter the jacket.  What?  I don't want to be too obvious.  I throw my jacket on and pick up the backpack slouched next to the closet.  From preschoolers to psychopaths, backpacks are something you never outgrow.

As I throw my backpack over my shoulder I hear the cold clank of metal against metal. I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out two black, rubber gloves. Slowly, I pull the gloves onto my hands and release them with a snap. I glance down down at my watch and smirk. 1:30 a.m., perfect. I walk away from the closet and approach my front door. Swiftly, I open the door and step into the brisk February night, watching as my breath turns to smoke and blows away. I step onto the barren sidewalk, minding the translucent ice. Before starting my escapade down the sidewalk, I take a look around me for people. If there were tumbleweeds in Boston, they would roll past me now. With a sense of determination, I start walking. 82 Church Street: The place where Mr.Adressi will take his last breath, and where I will receive my hefty paycheck. He can play the wounded gazelle, and I can play the lion. Scene one, action!

As I walk down the street, I keep my guard up, like a crazed animal hunting for weaker prey. Most people would be scared of walking down dark city streets at night, but I find comfort in being hidden from the world under the black mask of night. The only sounds that can be heard are the click of my boots against the cold pavement and the sharp inhales of my breath. As I start getting closer to my final destination, or should I say Mr.Adressi's final destination, I slow down. I reach into my back pocket and feel for my switchblade. I take it out of my pocket and hold it in my right hand, releasing the sharp blade with a satisfying pop. Next, I reach into my other pocket, feeling around for my small syringe. As soon as I feel it, I take it out of my pocket and pull the cap off of the needle, exposing it completely. I take a glance at it to make sure the cylinder is still filled to the brim with alprazolam. One shot of this will ensure that Mr.Adressi has a nice nap for a couple hours. I could use succinylcholine for paralyzation, but watching people squirm is so much more fun.

I hold the syringe with my left hand as I continue to walk, duel-wielding with the switchblade. From down the sidewalk I can see Mr.Adressi's apartment, number 82. I approach his door with caution, looking around me for any possible witnesses. The streets are empty. Holding my syringe behind my back and my blade in my fist, I knock on his door. Why don't you come see who's knocking, maybe it's another one of your friends with some new snow for sharing. I feel my heart start to pound with adrenaline as I wait for the door to open. I know it's gruesome and I know it's twisted, but I can't help but get excited at the thought of what's about to happen. Suddenly, I hear the click of the door being unlocked. The door slowly opens to reveal a disheveled looking Mr.Adressi, dressed in a stained white shirt and grey sweatpants. His hair is balding and his face looks like it could use a good shave. No wonder why his wife left him. "Who the hell are you?" He slurs loudly. I look down to see a half-empty bear bottle in his hand. Poor drunk, tried to forget how fucked up he is by drowning his sorrows in booze.

Before he can say anything else, I step forward and sink my syringe deep into the jugular vein on his neck. His eyes widen with shock and his mouth hangs open. Quickly, I pull the now empty syringe out and shove it into my pocket. I grunt with effort as I pick the heavy man up and throw him over my shoulder before he collapses. Just another perk of being six feet tall. With Mr.Adressi slung over my shoulder, I step into his apartment and close his door, making sure to lock it. I look around as I walk through his dirty apartment, noticing a multitude of empty liquor bottles. After minimal exploring, I find his living room, complete with a couch and coffee table. I toss Mr.Adressi's unconscious body onto the couch and throw my backpack onto the floor. The heavy thump of club music flows from the radio sat next to the couch. I chuckle darkly as I turn the dial to increase the volume. Not even that will be able to drown out your screams.

While the sleeping beauty rests on her bed, I prepare the room for what will happen next. I reach over to my backpack, unzip the flap, and pull out my two trusty friends: Duct tape and saran wrap. Slowly, I unroll the wrap and begin to cover the area surrounding the coffee table with it. Ha, like I'd ever leave any evidence. How stupid do you think I am? I start with the floor around the table, using the duct tape to hold down the saran as I go. Next, I move onto the table itself, making sure it's completely masked. As soon as everything is covered, I walk over to Mr.Adressi. Carefully, I lift him off the couch and place him backdown on the coffee table. Using my duct tape, I secure him to the table, completely tying his limbs and torso down. I don't enjoy playing games of tag with my victims before they meet their demise. Lastly, I take my jacket off and place it aside. Wouldn't want it to get dirty, would we?

With a few convincing slaps, Mr.Adressi begins to open his eyes. He blinks vigorously, eyes wide with confusion and fear. "W-what is this?" He shouts angrily, moving his head from side to side to take in his surroundings.

"Don't scream too loudly Mr.Adressi, we wouldn't want the neighbors to hear, now would we?" I say, walking over to my backpack. Carefully, I pull out a silver blade. I pause as I admire it for a second, thinking about all the crimson the knife has seen. A sharp cry drags me away from my thoughts. I turn back around and walk over to Mr.Adressi, chuckling darkly as I see him quiver at the sight of my knife.

"You don't want to do this! T-the police will find you and you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in jail, you sick fuck!" He shouts, thrashing back and forth wildly as tears pour from his eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure there's no evidence." I whisper evilly, looking him straight in the eye. Before he can respond, I sink my blade into his chest.

Another dollar, another day.

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First chapter, done! Thank you so much for reading:D Leave a comment with what you
want to happen next (and maybe a vote too?)

~Jamie