I was lying on the roof of the building, feeling uncertain about what to do.
I was struck, rendering me almost immobile, amidst the tranquility of the balmy June night. The gentle breeze serenely caressed my face while the moon's radiant light peered through the clouds. Dimly, I discerned the rustling of the individual responsible for my fall below.
I was unwavering in my resolve to acquire them under any circumstances. Armed with my rifle and a hidden knife, I stayed ready for an impending confrontation. Despite the intense pain, I continued without hesitation. Slowly, I uncovered my jacket and examined the wound, realizing that the bullet had not passed through my skin, indicating it was still lodged inside me. The pain diminished, but a numbness set in that felt like losing a limb.
...At the age of 16, I found myself on a rooftop, using my teeth to tear my jacket sleeve. With it, I created an improvised bandage to conceal and halt the bleeding from a gunshot wound on my arm. While attending to this injury, I couldn't help but contemplate the events that brought me to such a situation.
As a student, I have my whole future ahead of me. It all started as a joke at 14 years old when my friends and I acquired a gun to aimlessly shoot at passersby. Regrettably, we unintentionally injured someone in the abdomen. Overwhelmed by fear, my friends ran away while I chose to face the repercussions of my actions.
As I flipped the weighty body over, I stared directly into the face of the lifeless woman. The sight surged adrenaline through me, igniting an eager anticipation for my
next target. It's indescribable, but witnessing the wreckage I had caused to others exhilarated me, craving for more. It became deeply addictive. After waiting several months, I finally pursued my following victim on a chilly January afternoon, fully preparing my rifle.
I roamed around, searching for a potential victim to end their life mercilessly. To my surprise, I spotted a boy from my school passing by, his innocent demeanor capturing my attention. I had never held any affection towards him, and the idea of witnessing his lifeless body on the ground, powerless and motionless, thrilled me immensely. Having previously evaded capture for a previous murder, I confidently believed I could escape consequences for this act as well. With precision, I unleashed a series of well-aimed attacks, causing him to collapse. Reverently turning his body to face me directly in the eyes, my actions were witnessed by a bystander.
Observing me standing above the lifeless figure with a firm grip on a rifle, she realized that this was the moment of irreversible consequences. Going back home was out of question since my father served as a police officer, and I knew he would relentlessly pursue me. As a result, I have been successfully avoiding being apprehended ever since.
Despite the pain I have caused my family, their well-being does not concern me. My mother prioritized her successful career as a lawyer over our family and never made an effort to spend time with us. Similarly, my father's occupation as a police officer only fueled my strong antipathy towards law enforcement. While I could grasp the allure of taking someone's life and its underlying motivations, those in the
police force failed to understand this perspective. Lastly, there is my brother.
He is four years my senior and was almost finished with college when I had to go into hiding. Despite me not mentioning it, he remained one of my closest friends and the only dependable person among my family members.
Although I yearn for him, the few options available indicate that he has probably moved forward. If he were smart, he would have established some separation between us, despite his close relationship with his mother. My desire is to eventually reconnect with him and reflect on our shared history. It's remarkable to see news stories labeling me as 'the sniper'. Every day there are pleas to capture me, yet no advancements have been achieved.
If only they were more observant. I have never left the city since the day I started running, approximately one and a half years ago. Each face of every person I have killed remains etched in my memory. In total, I have taken the lives of precisely 33 individuals throughout my time on the run.
Every murder I commit surpasses the previous one, enhancing the thrill and satisfaction I experience. The fact that people are terrified of me brings me joy. Rather than seeking approval, my desire is to instill fear in others. I ensure that my killing methods are so impactful that no one can ever forget my identity.
My goal before leaving is to leave a lasting impact on the world and showcase my abilities. I have taken great care of my injury in order to be ready for what awaits me. Although there is still blood seeping through my jacket
sleeve, it will do for now. My main focus is finding and eliminating the person who harmed me, just as I have done with past enemies.
Although I have a plan, I will not utilize the rifle due to its inaccessibility for reaching the target. Instead, I will rely on the knife concealed in my pocket. Positioned above the building where the person below can observe me, I dangle the rifle over the edge. As soon as he fires a shot, I swiftly dodge and relinquish control of the rifle, aiming to deceive him into believing that I am deceased.
As he climbs the building, nearing the top, I can hear him. The knife is ready as I take measures to stay quiet, aware that in the eerie stillness of the night, any noise would be easily noticed. Unexpectedly, his attention shifts towards me. He wears black clothes and there is a feeling of familiarity surrounding him.
There is something strangely familiar about the person cautiously approaching me. Just as he turns his head to investigate a noise behind him, I seize the moment and swiftly thrust my knife into his back.
As I retrieve the knife, I proceed to repeatedly stab the foolish individual, experiencing a surge of adrenaline coursing through me. With each piercing of the knife into another person's body, an indescribable sensation of exhilaration washes over me. I persist in this activity until reaching my limit.
I want to visually observe my target in order to include him in the mental checklist.
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