Dramatic Monologue

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The noise had been intolerable. I had snapped. I was weak. I had done all the careful, oh so careful, strategic planning, just for the old man's cursed heart to dash my plans. I had thought about the rest of my life being spent rotting in a cell. I had arrived at the jail and was escorted to a cell. The cell was small and dank. The room had a strong smell of rotting wood mixed with a strange musty odor. There were two uncomfortable looking beds, one of the beds had a burly man with a large black beard and a bald head sleeping on it. The toilet in the corner had been repulsive. It hadn't been flushed, and it had smelled putrid. I glared my new home with disdain. “It was all the old man's fault,” I had thought. With his wretched eye and abhorrent …show more content…

The following weeks had been a blur. Sleep, wake up, eat a repugnant meal, followed by more sleep. When one day I had thought that I could no longer live like this. The odor, the meals, the uncomfortable beds. So I began to devise a scheme. My plan was to wait for lunch, and while the guards weren't looking, sneak into the kitchen and search for an exit from there. The plan had been rather crude, but I was confident. I had been halfway through my meal when I spotted an opening. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, unguarded, with a garbage bin near it. The door was propped open slightly. I had tried to contain my excitement as I strolled over to the door. After my “food” was thrown away, I swiftly slipped in the door, and closed It behind me. But, to my dismay, when I had surveyed the room, I had walked back into the cell area. Anger swelled inside of me, once again, I had been a fool. The noise returned, the watch enveloped in cotton. It was too much. Why does this happen to me? “Calm down,” I had thought to myself. I could not let this heinous noise get the best of me. When I returned to my cell, I pondered the noise. Why did it have to show up at the most inopportune moments? When I realized the noise became louder and more prominent as I became angrier. Was it possible the noise I had been hearing wasn’t the old man’s heart? Could I have been hearing … my

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