Chapter Text
Fucking cops had me dig through my old shit to find the old weapon. My prize weapon. My sledgehammer. With two sharp spikes wielded to the top. And a cat face wielded to it. It was cute. And I loved it. Loved using it too. But now that it was night. It was time. Time to face that dumb ass task force. I took off my bandana, and remember the reason why I hate cops.
That bastard had shot me in the head. And I've had the wound ever since. I like killing cops. It's what I do. It makes me happier than watching cops beat up people for doing something slightly wrong.
I still remember that first night waking up after being shot. Waking up panting and sweating in my clothes, feeling blood leak down my face, seeing the blood on my hands, the puke, walking, crying, hoping to see someone or to just die again. When I came across my house I still felt dizzy, everything was blurry from crying. I went in. Saw a few boxes. One with my prefered name on it. Collapsed on the floor. I was still scared those first few days. I didnt wanna leave the house. I was scared. I don't know what of. But of something. After a week or something I ran out of food. But the gun wound in my head still freaked me out. I still had all my thoughts, memories, and what not. But it was just.. A hole. In my forehead. That I could see through to the other side.. I puked that same night just thinking about the feeling of getting shot. And that damn cop. I cried as I emptied myself. But I managed to get on a bandage I had found in the medicine cabinet. Wrapped it around my head and went out. Hoodie tight. Hood up. Pants ripped of chains. I found out I could go outside the forest. But I didn't do much, or have much money but it was enough to get me through another few nights. That night I decided to at least through my house finding a simple pistol, sledgehammer, two rolls of duct tape, a film camera, ten boxes of film, and three photo albums. That was also the night a cop came into the house. I didn't know much of what to do. So my first instinct. Shoot him dead. And as a reward for my work? I took a picture to admire. As well as searching him. He had a wallet with a shit ton of cash though, picture of his family too. Bleh. Maybe I can rob his place. I wrote down his address just in case he had something good. Dumbasses house and car keys were on him too. And I dragged him till I came across an old abandoned lake. Surprisingly had fish in it still. So I decided to throw him in. It felt weirdly calming to watch him sink because of the heavy armor. They should work on that. But I went back to my place. Bathing myself that night Once in a while camera film shows up. I don't know how but I don't mind. But back to now.
I put on a favorite tank top, showed a good amount of my tits without my binder on, and my favorite jeans. Cute flare jeans. And my converse. A perfect outfit for a perfect night of murder. I got my camera, my pistol with an extra mag, my sledgehammer, and I'm ready. Lucky I also found another pack of film. Still weird my body still grows after being technically dead.