Snippet #2325312

Vance was on his couch, in his basement. He had pulled out the bed part of his couch, because he had picked up a random girl at the bar the night before. He was not sure of her name, it was either Rain, or Zoe, but he could not remember. Opening his eyes, he looked around the basement. He had no idea why they were in the basement, but he just got laid, so he did not want to question it. Stretching, he patted the girl on the back, who was laying on her side at the moment, and sad at the edge of the bed, and took a large sip of the whisky that was left over. He noticed there were bottles scattered everywhere. They must have had one hell of a time to drink all that. He scanned around for his pants, then he noticed he was still wearing the shorts he had on. Laughing to himself, he heard a crash from up stairs. Walking up to the stairs, he took the bowie knife that was attatched to his wall (http://www.canadaknives.com/product_inf ... cts_id=292), and slowly made his way upstairs. The knife was a reminder, a reminder of why he went to jail for seven years. As he reached his main floor, he noticed the door was broken to the ground, and a younger woman, maybe in her early tewnties, who was missing half her shoulder was on her knees infront of him. "Help me, please!" She begged him. The woman broke into his house, and for he knew, she could be a robber. He raised his knife, and slit her throat. Oh the good old days, when blood would flow to the floor all because of him. If he were to tell the story, it would be to a girl, one that he was going to kill. The ironic part of that was, most of his killing days were over, besides that day. What took such a large bit out of that girls shoulder/ Was she the thing that took down his door?