Kill Like A Gentleman ✓

(1) Heartless Sadistic Murderer

EVERYTHING IS LITERALLY A BLUR. I blink once, and then twice, and then on the third time, a silhouette of a large man appears in front of me. It takes me a couple of seconds—and a little more stumbling—to finally remember that this guy punched me in the face, which is why my nose is bleeding and my ears have this buzzing sound.

I rub my eyes to see clearer. When the buzzing sound in my ear disappears, I'm finally able to hear what the man's shouting to me.

"You dare harass my girl like that?! Huh, pretty boy?!" he shouts in full rage. His friends are trying to stop him from punching me again by grabbing both of his arms.

I wipe the blood coming out from my nose with the back of my hand and point my index finger at the man accusing me of harassing 'his' girl, who is honestly not exactly my type. Don't get me wrong. I don't harass girls even if they were my type, but I just want to clarify that this particular girl isn't my type, so even TRYING to lay a finger on her is unlikely.

And come on man, pretty boy? Who uses pretty boy as a form of insult? It's actually very flattering considering I'm twenty-eight. Just means I still look young, so it's more of a compliment on my part.

"Look, pal, like what I tried to explain to you, the back of my hand just happened to brush past this beautiful girl's bum. I did not mean to do it, which was why I immediately apologized. But then she screamed and slapped me, then next thing I knew you had landed a punch on my face. I should be the one who's angry right now. I'm the victim," I explain to him as calmly as I could, but obviously, the man isn't listening. If he's the listener type, he wouldn't be screaming at me right now.

"You think I'll believe your lies compared to my girl's words!" he continues to shout at me.

I sigh and massage my temple. This is stressing me out more than I expected. All I wanted was a glass of beer in my favorite night pub and talk to my favorite bartender, Mr. Lincoln. Why am I suddenly caught up in all this before I could even get inside the pub? Now I get no beer and no conversation at all!

"Yes, because I'm telling you the truth, and she's just being irrational. And please, just stop calling her my girl. She's her own person, she doesn't belong to anyone," I sassily tell him, which of course, only angered him even more.

"So you're using smart words on me now? Huh, pretty boy?!" he shouts, confusing me now. And again, what's with the pretty boy insult?

"Smart words? What the hell did I say that seemed smart to you?! I'm just trying to fucking explain my side!" I now shout back. All his shouting is making me shout back at him.

The man was about to say something, maybe something stupid again, but then a police car arrives and parks in front of the pub, immediately making the people surrounding us run away from the scene.

The man's friends let go of him. A tall, dark and handsome policeman goes out of his car and approaches us, but before the officer could say anything, the man shouting at me a few seconds ago points at me and tells the cop, "Cuff this man up! He's harassing my girl!"

I roll my eyes in irritation. Not because he wants me cuffed, but because he still calls the woman my girl even after everything that I just said.

"Okay, calm down, sir. Let's talk about this like two educated citizens," the cop says, but just because he was in uniform, doesn't make him any different from me because the man still wouldn't listen, even to him.

"What the hell are you doing? Didn't you just hear me?! Cuff this motherfucker up!" he shouts, and the cop finally goes to where I'm standing. But instead of cuffing me up, he smacks the back of my head and says with an angry tone, "What the hell did you do this time, Elliot?! And what the hell happened to your face?!"