A Killer's Eyes: An interview essay with a convicted murderer

Essay by MollyBee9184University, Bachelor's April 2004

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It was a cold, dark night in the middle of January. The world was silent at three in the morning and no one in their right mind would be out in the horrible snow, yet a lone, beat up, tan pick up truck drove quietly down Chestnut street. The tan demon slowed down and stopped in front of a darkened house. A young man slid out of the truck and silently into the pitch-black house. The only sound was the thump thump coming deep from within his chest and the shallow erratic breathing. Quickly finding the money he was looking for, the man made his way back out but in the darkness of the house tripped over a small table. It was all over. They knew. They had heard him.

Panic streaked through his veins, and as the elderly man entered the living room to find out what had happened, he did it.

Grabbing the flowered glass lamp behind him, the young man smacked him. The old man collapsed on the slick hard wood floor groaning and looking up at the young man. Hysteria and Adrenaline flew through the boy's brain as he shot him in the head. Suddenly, screams that pierced the night registered in his brain. The man had a wife! Those screams! Those high pitched, terrified, and painful screams! Why couldn't she just stay silent?

They had to be stopped. The boy ran to the back room. What could shut the sound off? Pillows! That would keep the sound down! Grabbing the closest pillow clad in its white pillowcase, he pushed it as hard as he could on top of her mouth and face. She was still screaming. Why couldn't she stop? Pulling his gun back into his hand he shot until the screaming stopped, and...