I'm Back Bitches

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story of a criminal finding a way of leaving his cell.

Submitted: July 10, 2016

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Submitted: July 10, 2016

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The walls that surrounded me were as dark as my crime, apparently. Each line in the wall was a line that I had slashed through someone’s neck. There was no way out of this dark, abomination of a place – not that I wanted to leave anyway. The silent terrors that kept us awake at night was the only salvation for me, it kept my reality real. It proved to me that the pleasure that I had once felt was real, even if that means that I can never do it again. It was worth it. The eternal laughter that is spat at us just shows that we accomplished our missions. We are not the failures, they are the ones with the dead-end jobs and a dream of a future that they will never get. We just completed our goals faster than they did.

White splashes flecked the black canvases of the walls; someone had been bored. Each little splash was a reminder that some people had not been able to come to my brilliant realisation of our success. It is, of course, a brilliant realisation, only a fool would think otherwise. It brought pity to my ‘stone-cold’ little heart. How many people had slept in this bed, paced this floor, shit in this shitter without ever realising the beauty of their success? They had done what they sought out to do, isn’t that better than what most people get to do? Most people back out of the things they want to do because they are scared they won’t do it right. Well look at us! I reckon us ‘criminals’ are inspirations, it’s just no one knows it yet.

Dust colonised at the corners of the room, along the edge of the sink and under the bed. Each fleck of dust is like a remnant of a person who had once dwelled here. A web of cracks blossomed from the bottom of the sink. Each end of the web spirals outwards like a sea of tangles. Someone could have broken that sink if they weren’t careful. It’s a bloody good job they didn’t hit it hard enough to break; I need that sink. The once - white toilet was covered in grime, it’s the only place here that I fear to go to.

That toilet has never been cleaned. It has never been cleaned of the memories that it has seen. It has never been cleaned of the people who have been unfortunate enough to be thicker than me. Of course, everyone here is thicker than me. You hear all this bullshit in the canteen about losing your head and losing your grip on reality. This is reality, your reality is that you are being commended for your actions. You don’t have to get a shitty job and pay your bills and live some hopeless life that will never come to anything. You are in the real heaven, this is about as good as it gets my friend. We get food, comfort, a shower and a fucking Xbox for free man, who doesn’t want that? And what’s better, once you get out, you get to do it all over again, so the fun never stops.

Although the judge says I’m never getting out, but I have a plan. Because I like you, I’m going to tell you my plan in case you ever need it. 1) Arselick the officer that brings you food. 2) Show an interest in his family, hobbies and friends. 3) Ask how his Christmas was, if his kids got what they wanted. 4) Share your food with him – people are more likely to trust you if you share your necessities. 5) Make him sympathise with you, show him you’re not a bad person after all. 6) Now this is the bit you really have to practise, you have to get into his head, be his conscience and show him that he could let you free and have the life you’ve always wanted. 7) Do this for quite some time, he will resist, of course, but you have to show him what’s right. 8) Get him to slide his key under your door at midnight, the perfect time for a new murder to begin. 9) Kill the fucker. 10) Your free.

I’m back, bitches.


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