So as many of you have probably guessed, part one was false. Some of it was true (like location, the shortcut I take, the car with its reverse lights on but no headlights, being tired, cold, etc), but most of it was fabricated in my crazy little mind. I'd like to say thanks for the positive comments and to the cockhole who said 95 hours in 2 weeks wasn't a lot of work.. please feel free to come down to Orlando and work those hours doing what I do. I have a lot of money saying you won't make it past the first 2 days. Now onto part two...hope you enjoy it. Oh and lank was right, in Florida, if it's self defense you won't prosecuted for murder or anything. At most, it's a night in jail while they figure out what happended. I love Florida.

.....I sat in the cop car, unable to move. This was nothing like how it is in the movies. When you see someone kill another in a movie, the after effects are minimal at best. Usually it's just a little shock and then they move on to their next scene. In real life your mind seizes. The only thing you can see, eyes open or shut, is that one moment in time. Maybe I'm a pussy and this only happens to pussies, but I couldn't do anything but shake. I guess the cops thought I was cold because they brought me a jacket. Underneath, however, the chill ran deeper than the hardest blowing Artic winds. It chilled me to the bone feeling life slip away. I was driven to the county jail and put in a holding cell. What seemed like days later, my parents showed up to bring me home. I was told that my car was towed from the scene to an impound lot and I could pick it up tomorrow. Life was hoping to return to normal..or so I thought.

The nightmares kept me up for a week straight. Those dark brown eyes haunting my dreams and preventing me from sleeping a quality sleep. After a while, I just accepted it. Got back into my daily routines and tried not to think of it as killing someone's son, but killing someone who threatened my very existance. A couple weeks after my incident I was preparing for my daily jog around the neighborhood. As I set off, I noticed a car pulling into the front gate; one I've never seen before. A strange sight, a strange sight indeed. Fear gripping me, I continue on, telling myself that I must still be jumpy, it's nothing. As they drive by, I risk a glance at the occupants of the vehicle. What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. It was him.

I had no idea how he found me, or hell if it was even him. A lot of blacks have that same hair cut, dreads cut short, fluffed out to make them look like Coolio back when he was somebody. Shit, he didn't even slow down, look at me, or even look in his rearview. Killing his friend surely would invoke some response from him when he saw me right? I convinced myself it wasn't him when I saw him drive around the corner and continue down the road. Running always relaxed my nerves so I continued on and hoped that my afternoon exercise routine would calm me. It sure as hell did. I returned, exhausted and ready for some food. Even after all this, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. Something bad.

As I lay there, trying to find sleep, the feeling persisted. That's when I heard it. A slight "chink" of glass breaking, ever so softly. Maybe I was being paranoid, perhaps it was instinct, whatever it was, it saved my life. I slipped out of bed, quiet as a mouse, and went to my closet. Off the top shelf, I pulled down what looked like a briefcase. Grabbing the key from the frame above, I unlocked it and pulled out my 92FS. Sliding the clip into the grip felt satisfying. It had been months since I shot this thing. I cocked the weapon and heard a round enter the chamber. I kept the safety on, just in case this was paranoia. I crept to the end of the hallway and that's when I heard them. Two distinct voices, sounding confused. I thumbed the safety off and crept around to the backside of the kitchen. These fuckers were on my turf now and they had no idea what they were doing.

I walked into the kitchen, pistol raised, and asked them what the fuck they think they were doing here. One of them spun around, his face exposed in the moonlight. It was him, the one I saw in that parking lot, the one I saw this afternoon. His hand raised and I caught the glint of metal in the light. I did not need to process this, I knew what he was holding. He had a pistol in his hand and he was intending to use it. I ducked back into the hallway just as a piece of drywall shattered next to me. Douchebag looked like he never fired a weapon in his life. His buddy ran, I guess he wasn't really looking forward to actually shooting someone. Like I said though, this was my turf and this guy was not getting away from me.

I slammed into my room, making sure this guy heard where I was. He didn't seem, to me, to be in control of himself and I had confidence that the only thing he wanted was revenge. I set my gun down, I wanted to make sure I dished out this pain and not some machine. I waited in ambush in the corner nearest to the door. He crashed through the door, pistol raised, arm straight out; perfect. I leaped out of my hiding spot and wrapped my arms around his. I felt his elbow hyper-extend and heard the pistol drop to the floor. I kicked it away and backed off, giving him a chance to recover. I wanted blood here and wanted him to suffer for disrespecting my center of peace. I moved in to begin this tango and started off with a swift right hook. Connecting, I felt his jaw recoil. He staggered back and recovered. I saw the fury in his eyes as he moved to tackle me to the ground. I let him take me down, ground fighting was a favorite of mine. He rolled to get on top of me, attempting to gain control of the situation. I shifted my weight, caught him off balance, and slammed him to the ground with my legs. I rolled up and went in for some punches. Connecting with a jab, a right hook, and another jab, he was in no condition to continue this. I got off him, praying for him to get up.

He pulls a switch blade out of his pocket, a last ditch effort to enact his revenge. He bum-rushed me, arm extended, hoping to do some damage to me. Big mistake, he practically gave me his elbow. I grabbed his arm, shifted my weight to counteract his momentum, and took him to the ground. Locking him arm between my legs, I hooked him in an arm-bar. Forcing his arm down and my pelvis up, I put enormous pressure on his elbow joint; to the point of breaking. I heard the satisfactory snap of his joint, the pain in his scream was more than enough extacsy for me. I let him to and watched as he attempted to slither away. I walked out to my garage and got some rope. Tying him up, making sure to hit the elbow as much as possible, I restrained him......

I know this one isn't as good but I tried. I'm in somewhat of a rush and can't really puot a whole lot of effort into it. I hope you enjoyed it as much as the last. I enjoy writing so please feel free to suggest topics to write about and I'll fabricate a story to them. Thanks.