Serial Killer Monologue

1754 Words4 Pages

I took a deep breath. I rehearsed this I thought, the role of a psychopathic serial killer, and I have to nail it. I can do this. That was the pep talk I gave myself before every interrogation started. They pulled the burlap sac off my head and a sly smile crept over my face as the process began. The other people in the bleak gray room tried to hide their expressions of surprise seeing my smile, but it was useless I had mastered the skill of reading other people’s emotions a long time ago. They put a pistol to the back of my head. Classic I thought. The idea was used time and time again. Now they ask for information, and try the “completely original” I know who your working for; just wait for it. They moved the gun off of my head and …show more content…

Now tell us what information you known and we’ll let you go. We know who you are working for!” said the man holding the gun(there it is, those dull lines only stereotypical interrogators use). “Boring,” I said, rolling my eyes, “tell me how people like you think this process will get them any information. I have been in plenty of rooms just like this one and they haven’t gotten any information out of me. So tell me why do you think your methods will have a different result. Is it because you believe your set apart from the rest of the world; if so your arrogance deceives you. I have no doubt that you researched me. You probably found out a lot of information that you believe is true, but is it really or is your government lying to you? Have you just barely scratched the surface of my true essence, or” I began my voice inflection was just right to sew deceit in their …show more content…

I pulled out my phone, walked into a crowd, and started to talk on my cell, let’s see how good my preppy college kid accent is, “Like, oh my god, how can people not watch where they’re going. Uh, can’t you see I am walking here. Sorry Sue, it’s just some people,” I said gradually increasing my volume, “who can’t stay out of other people’s way!” The guard kept walking and mumbled something that sounded like spoiled brat. I rolled my eyes, and knew my trick had worked. I opened the message app on my phone and texted Brantley, my life long best friend, the message read, “See you at the coffee shop in DC. I’ll be working if you need me.” “Okay,”was his response. As I headed that way I remembered the time we started the coffee shop chain. Brantley and I were just teens and life was not nearly this complicated, but little did we know Brantley was going to get drafted as a sniper for the Navy and I was going to turn this small coffee shop into a successful, international business, and let’s not mention the part about becoming one of the world’s top assassins at age

Open Document