The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal – Episode 7 – From Hell’s Heart I Stab at Thee [Part 2]

Bob experiences his first killing.

As Bob sat holding the knife, he felt the itch again return. It gnawed at him; first, it was his mind, then it was his arm…and then his hand. It felt as if he was being piloted, being driven by someone other than him.

He was in town now. He was walking with an energy, a dark kind; fueled from some unknown source. He was then lured to an alleyway. He heard gasps, muffled screams, a struggle! He didn’t bother to creep down the alleyway, he knew what he had to do.

He came around the corner and saw a man holding down a  woman a knifepoint, trying to take her pants off. The woman’s pleas were muffled, but her tears and crying were not. Passerby’s ignored the spectacle, some hurried past, others lazily watched.

Bob was disgusted and enraged. He came up behind the man and picked him up. “You think it’s OK to rape, you sick fuck?”

“Woah, woah, what’s your deal, man?” said the rapist.

“You make me sick,” said Bob angrily. “You all make me fuckin’ sick. Especially, you who’re gettin’ their rocks off. The fuck is the matter with you?!”

The others in the area all ran and scurried out of the alleyway. Sirens could be heard approaching fast.

“Listen, pal—” the rapist attempted to say before Bob drove his knife deep into the man’s gut.

“I ain’t your pal, guy.” Bob stared deep into the eyes of the filth of a man.

The woman scrambled to her feet and tried to run, fearing for her life. Once she reached the alleyway entrance, the cops had arrived.

“You know, this isn’t so bad. I kind of like it,” said Bob with a big grin on his face.

“The fuck is wrong with you, man?” said the man, clutching his gut.

“You, all of you sick fucks. Takin’ advantage of the system, of people, preyin’ on the weak and innocent. Ya know what? Prey on my knife.” Bob snarled at the man, almost demonic-like, and began to plunge the knife repetitively in the man’s gut, and dragging the knife in all sorts of directions.

The man collapsed the ground, his blood and insides all over the concrete of the alleyway.

“Put your hands up where we can see them!” an officer shouted as they approached Bob.

Bob ignored the commands and stood over the fast-dying man.

“You can try, but you won’t take me alive, copper,” said Bob to himself.

“Put the knife down!”

“Never.”

“Put it down!”

“Never.”

“Put the fucking knife down, now!”

“I said never!” Bob yelled as he charged at an officer.

The cops in the alleyway unloaded their guns on the poor sap that was known as Bob. He fell to the ground. As he stared up at the cops he smiled and laughed before he felt the familiar sensation leave him… only to return a few moments later.

***

It was somethin’ new, let me tell ya. That fucker had it comin’, though, I ain’t gonna lie. I can’t say that I am exactly proud to of killed someone, but no one else would’ve done anythin’ to help that gal. Hell, I could have probably gotten the two guys that were watchin’ and wankin’ to it. To Hell with them all.

This itch, though, I am hopin’ that it goes away. I mean, somethin’ has got to give. Right?

FOR EPISODE 7 — From Hell’s Heart I Stab at Thee  — Part One, CLICK HERE
THE CHRONICLES OF BOB: THE CHRONIC SUICIDAL IS AN ONGOING WRITING PROJECT BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY, HERE AT A.B. NORMAL PUBLISHING.
THIS ONGOING STORY IS A WORK OF FICTION. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

Author: Sincados

Writer, gamer, foodie, brew enthusiast, and awesome dad. Also likes to make explosions...but not in any particular order.

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