Writing Night time Junkie

[Pawn114]

Ok, I know there are obviously grammatical errors and spelling errors, and some missing quotation marks... Some foreknowlage you need to actually understand the story... The parts in italiac are his thoughts to himself, as he goes on relating his tale, his mind unveils parts that did not show before... I'm going to use the spoiler thing, mainly because I've always wanted to try it, and it -is- kind of a spoiler. [Spoiler]Ok, basically: He killed his parents, but as sometimes happens, utter and complete denial occurs, and the mind actually attempts to wipe the thoughts and memories out of existence... so, through relating his tale in an abandoned church, to nobody (he thought a priest was in the booth with him... probobly high, though soberness would naturally have came as the story progressed), he realises he indeed killed them, and kills himself, pleasent, no?.[/Spoiler] Alright, done for an english project...
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?I really cant remember the day my parents died, I can only say I walked in and
saw the knives sticking up from their cooling corpses in a grim salute to death. The rest is shrouded in darkness so heavy my mind cannot pierce it.

I ran far, ran from the high-class dance clubs with the high-class killers. Not
ordinary thugs, but high-classed ones with a fine taste for food and wine, and a similar taste in killing. The murders are untraceable to you, but only the rich can afford their services. It?s kind of a personification for Nightlund, high class with a sinister side that takes its toll on you. The underbelly is my home. I ran from the pristine coat of the upper class to the peeling paint and obscene graffiti of the lower class. The same gaudy neon lights are in abundance, but most are broken, and the ones that remain can only shine a meek glow to the population of thugs, junkies and prostitutes"


"Yeah, that?s were I made my home, I don?t know why I ran, I didn?t kill them?
[I]Right?[/I]
?I got involved with the wrong kinds of people and soon I was a junkie. Heroin
was my high, and my arms show it. It was the one thing that let me forget it, forget
everything. Every once in a while in my drug induced stupors I would get flashes that would bring a cold sweat onto my convulsing body. Horrific flashes of my hand gripping a bloody knife?,
[I]But I came in after they died, didn?t I?[/I]


?Maybe I did heroin to blame my problems on someone else? between my drug
highs and my self-pitying, I hung out with the wrong kind of people and soon acquired a nickname, Razor. My name portrayed more about me then most realise. Lost in two world, similar, but ultimately different. The world of gangs, which my nickname represents, and my link to the upper class, Taylor Anderson. If you?re thinking all I talk about is the upper-class, your right. Call it longing, wishful thinking, it all amounts to the same thing. Nobody wants to be at the underbelly of a city, it?s a necessity, and I?m no exception to that. I know that I?m not wanted there?


[I]But WHY! I didn?t kill anybody? But then why am I loath to go back! And the
flashes of everything, it?s like I?m trying to hide something from myself![/I]


?I took to cutting myself, I loved the feeling of the blood welling up, reminded me
of my parents in some morbid way. Yeah, I was messed, just like every junkie in this city of eternal twilight. I bet you get this all the time, Junkies hoping to let go of their problems, wanting something real in repent for their wrongs.?


[B][I]Like killing your Family!![/I][/B]
[I]No, I would never! I? I? I HATED THEM![/I]
[I]No! That?s not me, it can?t be![/I]


?Forgive me father for I have sinned!?
[I]Oh god! How can
someone else forgive me when I can?t even forgive myself![/I]
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?Yeah, his body was found in an empty confessional in an abandoned church
downtown with a bullet in his head and a gun in his hand. What was he expecting? To confess to a real priest inside an abandoned church. Funny thing is, I don?t think he was high? no drug could give the expression I saw on his face, it burned itself into my memory? Such pain and torture, like the world?s weight rested on his shoulders. Free now at least. Anyways, shifts over, lets go.? And with that, the cruiser sped off into the eternal night in a seemingly eternal city.
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Alright, Alright, I know it sucks, but thats why I posted it, I kind of like it anyways, and am looking for ways to improve it, be harsh if you desire, I couldnt care less :laugh:

[Rachael]

I love this story you shouldn't put yourself down for this work its amazing really dark and deep...keep up the good work