Dramatic Monologue

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“¨Hello?¨ I said, his voice quaking as the rusty door swung open and hit the wall resulting in a booming echo. I cautiously stepped into the poorly lit room, preventing me from taking in my whereabouts. Confusion clouded my brain as, little by little my hope died down ¨ Ahh Alexander, you're finally here. Haven't your parents ever told you that it’s rude to be late?¨the a powerful voice filled the room. I could hear the smirk in his voice. ¨Not really, really, I mean with my dad leaving us when I was 3 and my mom’s drug addiction, I guess they never got around to it.” Memories swirled around my mind the sheer emotion of anger engulfing me. ¨Oh no, is little Alex mad?” the irritating voice taunted. “Okay, I'm done. I’m done with this innocent …show more content…

As that thought crossed my mind and a smirk made its way to my face, I heard the familiar deafening voice. “ I thought you would behave and we could get this over with but no, you're going to be a drama queen so we only have one option. Honestly, you did this to yourself, we could have had a couple more iconic moments,” he said the last part in a hushed mocking voice. Before I could react I felt two hands grip my scrawny arms forcefully and all I could do was wince while being dragged further into the blackness of the room. My protests were muffled by the disheveled rag forcibly shoved into my mouth and I could feel the chlorophyll beginning to take its effects. Slowly and involuntarily my eyes began to slowly shut, allowing my mind to drown out the cackling of the heinous creature. I’m sorry, but no matter how hard I try, the rest of that horrific day is a blur,” I said, void of emotion. The police officer reminded me, seemingly for the hundredth time, that acknowledging my ‘feelings’ was not a sign of weakness but rather of power and strength. Unconsciously, I nodded and reassured him I was fine and was able to head …show more content…

It was about 3:30 am by the time I finally reached the colossal NYU campus coated by students encompassed by both their books and peers. As I skillfully wove myself through the clusters of my fellow peers, none of which batting an eye in my direction, the familiar feeling of invisibility cloaked me, a thick blanket I welcomed with open arms wanting nothing more than to return to my dorm. The screams that ripped through the air, were new though. I felt my phone buzz and rushed to check it curious if it was the source of the shock spreading through our vast campus. Hesitantly, I checked the news and was aghast reading the headline ‘NYU Student’s Body Found in the East River’. The Following showed a clip of the detectives, the deceased body and New York’s shocked and distressed citizens. My stomach lurched at the name of the dead student, Amit Reymond. Amit Reymond was the sole student in this madhouse towards whom I felt no need to strangle. He had been in my English Lit class and had hated it and the treacherous lectures we often received as much as I did. We hadn’t been exceptionally close, but he was the closest to a friend I’ve gotten to in three years of

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