8 years have passed since then.
Funnily enough, I sometimes miss my father. I don't know what happened to my mother, but sometimes I wish that perhaps I shouldn't have killed him. I could've broken his arm, or something. After I had killed him, I looked for my mom throughout the neighbourhood, but I couldn't find her. I went to my Granny's house, and stayed their. I told her that we had been robbed, and that they had both been killed. It killed me to lie about it, but what else could I do? I didn't feel like murdering my Gran. I liked her.
Currently, I am staying in an apartment somewhere outside Chicago. I had saved up my birthday money for about four years, hoping that it would go toward my College fund. I am able to pay my rent, and still have some cash remaining. Perhaps I'll buy myself a suit. I always wanted a suit. I always thought my dad looked nice in his suit. That was the only time he had any impression on me. When he was in his suit, getting ready for work. He would listen to his Walkman as he drove to work. Phil Collins, mostly. I hated Phil Collins. Only because my dad liked them.
I have a job in a Gas Station-washing cars, fueling cars. The money's not so good, but I suppose I don't need much extra at the moment. It's usually spent on food, clothes, drink...Did I mention I have a drinking habit? I'm pretty ashamed to admit it, but you only live once, eh? Almost every night, I would purchase some Scotch. Always from a different store, so it didn't seem that I was alcoholic. Surprisingly, I only killed one person while I was on the drink.
Some asshole approached me and asked me to give him my money. Seeing how I was so pissed, I almost gave it him. Then I realised I had almost all my money with me, and decided not to. When I refused, he pulled a knife from his jacket. He slashed at me several times, and gashed my side. I threw several punches at him, and when he was on the ground I stamped on his head. I heard the crunch of his skull beneath my boot, and blood stained the leather. I searched his jacket after I had killed him, and took his money. What a fucking way to go, eh?
I disposed of the body by storing it in a nearby dumpster. Some fry-cook would find it soon. I chuckled at the thought of his reaction.
I took a cab home, careful for the driver not to see the blood staining my pants. I payed the fare, and returned to my room. I sat, alone, and read my book. Then I slept. It was 11:15 pm, and I was tired. I had worked all day, gotten drunk, then killed a guy. That night, I had a dream. I can't remember what it was about, but I remember having a dream.