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Rating: The first time I could hardly believe it.
I found myself outside the door of my hideout, ready to start a new life. I was thrilled. The city was beyond that dark yet reassuring alley, protecting me from that frightening and unknown city, but I wasted no time and started walking. On the ground, I found a baseball bat, picked it up, and began swinging it in the air for fun. I was on the sidewalk, and while hitting imaginary home-run balls, I heard a dull thud. STUD!
It was the skull of an old lady passing by, holding shopping bags in her hands. Almost without realizing it, I was seized by an attack of gerontophobia, and upon the still-dazed body of the elderly lady, my bat mercilessly struck more than once. That piece of wood bounced off that chest that seemed made of rubber. It was a terrible scene: gruesome and exciting at the same time. One hit, another, and yet another. sCcrRriC.
At one point, some money came out of her pockets. I curbed my frenzy, picked up the greenbacks, and as I was about to count them, I saw a pool of blood spreading beneath the old lady laid on the pavement. I stepped on it, and the blood stained my soles. I understood: she was dead. A vile murder for only 10 dollars. It was the beginning of my new life, and I had already stained myself with infamy, I was corrupted, destined to go under, only to start digging. I was a damned criminal.
In one instant, I realized that I could try to be good but would always return to plundering, killing, and causing suffering just for the sake of it, because it was tasty to do so—oh, was it tasty. Therefore, I wasted no time in further meditations and advanced towards the immense skyline of that magnificent city that already felt like mine. I went down the street and stole my first car.
I was only 12 years old.
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