[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
He drove up to Howie’s house, parking across the street, watching as they got out of the car and walked into the house. It didn’t take long for the security guards to go back into the car and drive away, leaving Howie and his personal bodyguard all alone. He grabbed his knife out of the glove compartment in his car and had shielded it in his pants. He opened the door and got out of the car, looking up and down the street to make sure no one was around to see what he was about to do. Briskly, he ran towards the house and hid behind the bushes, peering into the house to see what was going on. He could see Howie and his bodyguard walking upstairs, that’s when he took the opportunity to enter the house.

He swiftly opened the door and walked in, being careful not to make the slightest sound. He began to ascend upstairs, peering around the corner to see if they were there. When the coast was clear, he began to walk towards the bedroom, grasping the knife that was in his pants. He stopped and hid behind the wall when the bodyguard walked out of the room and had closed the door. Before he could turn around, the man took his knife and had slid it across his throat, gashing it open. The bodyguard began to gurgle on his own blood, grasping at the gaping wound in hopes to stop the flowing blood, but nothing worked. Within seconds, he dropped to the ground, the blood pouring from his throat creating a pool around him.

The man wiped the blood off on a white handkerchief and had placed it back in his pants before he quietly opened the door to Howie’s bedroom. He could see his small form wrapped up in the blankets curled up in a fetal position on the bed. He quietly crept towards the bed, taking his knife out again and raising it high in the air. Without thinking, he began to thrust his knife down on the bed, stabbing Howie continuously. After a while, he stopped and tossed his bloody knife to the side, panting hard and sweating. He grabbed the sheets and ripped away from the limp body, he gasped.

“It was a setup.” He said to himself.

When he pulled the sheets off, it revealed some other man who wasn’t Howie. He threw sheets back over the bloody corpse and grabbed his knife on the ground. He turned when he heard a herd of men rushing up the stairs and towards the bedroom. He ran over to the window and kicked it, shattering the glass into a million pieces. The team of FBI rushed into the room and raised their guns, spraying the area. The man quickly jumped out of the window, but wasn’t fast enough because a bullet ended up in his left arm. He landed painfully hard on his back, gasping for the air that was forced out of his lungs. He grasped at his bloody arm and pushed himself up off the ground, darting off just as the FBI agents began to shoot at him through the broken window.