8 views
The Streetcleaner - 2
Anna.
It was 4th of July, Anna had been out drinking and had called it a night, but had decided she should swing by her fella’s, they had a bit of a rollercoaster of a relationship but fuck it, she’d had a few and fancied it, y'know? So she sets about to North Queen street, a desolate area – boarded up windows, a few rough sleeper littered around, fading in and out of reality, all probably sharing the same bottle of counterfeit barbiturates. Anyway she’s not too far away but she walks by some sleazy cunt asked her if she fancied it to which she hastily replied “Not on your life” and carried on her route at a faster pace. This was nothing new, Keighley is rife for cheap skanks to pacify drunken fantasies, but she could feel her heart pulsating in her throat. Fear possessed her. She was soon at her destination and she knocked. She kicked, screamed, but nobody answered. She slid off her shoe and broke the window to the room downstairs, storming away fuelled by rage and anxiety. She walked by an alley near Ritz cinema and there he was. Same guy bearing the same question. She had none of it, uttering some degratory comment barely slowing her momentum. He took a few steps and he hit her.
And he hit her...
And he hit her.
She hit the floor. He grabbed her blouse, throwing it over her torso, fortunately sparing her from witnessing him mutilate her stomach. He was grinning, ready to stick it through her and complete his first mission, before being disturbed by the neighbour who was righteously concerned about the racket. Despite being read her last rites under the presumption of death, she lived.
"I was certain she was a prostitute - scum. I was being given instructions on what was the best moment to attack. I waited till she turned to walk back home. Then I hit her on the back of her head with a hammer. I knew that was safest. I knew she wouldn't see me. It was all over in less than ten seconds. I didn't mean her to suffer. I meant her to die."
It was 4th of July, Anna had been out drinking and had called it a night, but had decided she should swing by her fella’s, they had a bit of a rollercoaster of a relationship but fuck it, she’d had a few and fancied it, y'know? So she sets about to North Queen street, a desolate area – boarded up windows, a few rough sleeper littered around, fading in and out of reality, all probably sharing the same bottle of counterfeit barbiturates. Anyway she’s not too far away but she walks by some sleazy cunt asked her if she fancied it to which she hastily replied “Not on your life” and carried on her route at a faster pace. This was nothing new, Keighley is rife for cheap skanks to pacify drunken fantasies, but she could feel her heart pulsating in her throat. Fear possessed her. She was soon at her destination and she knocked. She kicked, screamed, but nobody answered. She slid off her shoe and broke the window to the room downstairs, storming away fuelled by rage and anxiety. She walked by an alley near Ritz cinema and there he was. Same guy bearing the same question. She had none of it, uttering some degratory comment barely slowing her momentum. He took a few steps and he hit her.
And he hit her...
And he hit her.
She hit the floor. He grabbed her blouse, throwing it over her torso, fortunately sparing her from witnessing him mutilate her stomach. He was grinning, ready to stick it through her and complete his first mission, before being disturbed by the neighbour who was righteously concerned about the racket. Despite being read her last rites under the presumption of death, she lived.
"I was certain she was a prostitute - scum. I was being given instructions on what was the best moment to attack. I waited till she turned to walk back home. Then I hit her on the back of her head with a hammer. I knew that was safest. I knew she wouldn't see me. It was all over in less than ten seconds. I didn't mean her to suffer. I meant her to die."
