Personal Narrative-Home

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Recommended: The effects of homelessness

I stumbled downstairs and dragged my feet along the dirty, cracked hallway floor. Another day in this pathetic excuse of a city. Yelling and loud thumps resonated through the building from the apartments above. I adjusted my winter coat and mentally prepared myself for the hellish crime ridden streets of Brooklyn. I tugged on the door handle again, the stupid thing was still stuck. Rubbing my hands together for alittle warmth I got a good grip on the handle and leaned back, putting all of my weight into one final heave. The rusty hinges snapped loose and the heavy door flung open, smashing me in the face. Blood poured from my face like a faulty water fountain.
While I was lying on the floor, writhing in pain, an itchy sack was pulled over …show more content…

Bruce swivelled back around and grinned at me as he quickly slipped a small package into my coat pocket then punched me again to cover it up. A small boy, about the age of 10 poked his head in through the door, "Your presence is requested at the front desk Master Bruce." and slipped back through the crack.
"Very well then, I must be going." Bruce glanced over at the guards and in a menacing tone grumbled "And don't you let this one out of your sight!"
Bruce winked at me as he stepped through the door and shimmied it closed behind him. With the disappearence of Bruce the two guards immediately let loose and went back to the conversation they'd been having before they were so rudely interrupted. The duct tape restricting my arms snapped. I rested my sore shoulders while I thought about my escape plan. The two guards only occasionally turned in my direction to check on me, leaving a 2 minute window in between each movement. I quickly snatched the package from my pocket and fumbled with it trying to get it open. I cringed at the loud tearing sound the paper made, but still the guards didn't notice. Inside was a small box with a syringe symbol on it. I started to worry that the guards would catch me while I scratched at the brass latches. The contents of the box were strange, 2 small vials of fluro green liquid and a gun about the size of my palm. The two vials perfectly fit inside the chamber of the gun. The guards conversation went silent as they leaned over to check on me, faster than the speed of light I stuffed my hands back behind my back and pretended to be

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