The Story of a Killer

16

It has been nearly a year since my outbreak. 

I have successfully gotten out of the country (I had lived near the border to Canada from USA). I spent nearly 2 months homeless and digging a tunnel underneath the wired fence. This was not easy. About halfway through the first month, a police caught me. He was driving through the border without a worry. But then he had turned around and noticed me. He ran forwards with his gun yelling to put the shovel down. Like hell I did.

I grabbed my knife, the police started shooting at me, I ducked and swiftly stabbed him multiple times. Stab after stab after stab. The lovely adrenaline rush came again. I knew he was dead at this point. But I just kept at it. I counted the stabs, 32, my new favorite number. 

About a month later, a better policeman came. He shot me in the leg, however, I was a smart boy. I continued to dodge the rest of his attacks. Ducking in his legs, stab, stab, stab. One in the heart, one in the back, and one in the stomach. He was as good as dead. But my rush wasn't over. I stabbed him 29 more times, making it 32 again. 

After my tunnel was done about half a month later, I sealed it back up and continued running. I found a motel, pretended to be innocent, and booked myself a room (I had saved up some dollars from people donating to a "poor homeless boy"). I then proceeded to work as a fast food employee, saving up some more money. Now my murder count is 6.