Youngstown Demon
You hear what they say about you. You watch the news.
Grinning to yourself, you chuckle a bit.
They assume so much and know so little. It’s all so comical.
You turn the TV off and shut out the lights before heading for the bathroom and starting the shower. You let your clothes slip to the floor and you step in, greeted by a scorching hot stream of water.
As the water stings your skin, you recount your latest work. He was a simple job, a raging alcoholic bastard. You met him in an alley and lured him to an old abandoned factory where you opened his throat and left him for the rats. That was three nights ago and they just recovered the body.
You’re doing your part to eliminate the scum from the earth. He deserved what he got. The others saw him, truly saw him, for what he was. That’s why he was targeted, because of what he was.
You step out of the water and into the cool air outside. That’s the best part of showering, when your body transists from hot to cold. Goose pimples raise all over your body and your nipples harden.
After drying off you are met with another cold blast when you exit the bathroom.
You walk to your bed thinking back on the news cast. They called you the Demon of Youngstown, like your something unholy; like what you’re doing is wrong. You’d like to straighten them out on the matter, but doing so would mean risking your identity.
The others say that if you reveal your identity all will be lost, the government will take you away and your mission will end. You tend to believe them on such things.
You slip naked beneath the covers and drift off to sleep.
Most people would assume you would have trouble sleeping at night.
They understand so little.
Grinning to yourself, you chuckle a bit.
They assume so much and know so little. It’s all so comical.
You turn the TV off and shut out the lights before heading for the bathroom and starting the shower. You let your clothes slip to the floor and you step in, greeted by a scorching hot stream of water.
As the water stings your skin, you recount your latest work. He was a simple job, a raging alcoholic bastard. You met him in an alley and lured him to an old abandoned factory where you opened his throat and left him for the rats. That was three nights ago and they just recovered the body.
You’re doing your part to eliminate the scum from the earth. He deserved what he got. The others saw him, truly saw him, for what he was. That’s why he was targeted, because of what he was.
You step out of the water and into the cool air outside. That’s the best part of showering, when your body transists from hot to cold. Goose pimples raise all over your body and your nipples harden.
After drying off you are met with another cold blast when you exit the bathroom.
You walk to your bed thinking back on the news cast. They called you the Demon of Youngstown, like your something unholy; like what you’re doing is wrong. You’d like to straighten them out on the matter, but doing so would mean risking your identity.
The others say that if you reveal your identity all will be lost, the government will take you away and your mission will end. You tend to believe them on such things.
You slip naked beneath the covers and drift off to sleep.
Most people would assume you would have trouble sleeping at night.
They understand so little.
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- ID: 57457
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