His Truth Your Nightmare Read Online Free PDF Page B

to die. We stood
there staring at each other then I heard someone say he got a gun
and that’s when everybody took off running in different directions.
I ran straight for the front door and jumped in my ride. That fool
had another thing coming if he thought I was going to let that shit
ride.
    I went home and put some ice on my head and
took a nap so that I could be well rested for what I was about to
do. I knew that Demarcus was a block hugger so I was going to wait
until the wee hours of the morning to get him. I woke up around one
and grabbed my tools from off the top of the closet. I snuck to the
garage and grabbed my dad’s BMW K1200 S motorcycle. Tonight I
needed something fast because I needed to make it from Lewisville
to Dixon and back before my dad noticed it was gone.
    I placed the silencer that he had built for
the muffler on and placed my tools on the compartment under the
seat. I loved this bike. It was all black everything and had all
types of extra contraptions built on it in case he needed to body
someone. I put on my dad’s all black leather suit and helmet then I
opened the garage and let the bike roll back into the street before
I crunk it up. The night air was cool yet humid and I was still
sweating like I had run a marathon. My heart beat with anticipation
and my hands shook from nervousness but there was no way that I was
going to back out now.
    It had taken a little less than thirty
minutes to make it to the south. I was on a mission and those
niggas had me fucked up. I made a right on Dixon Ave. from Scyene
Rd. and slowly cruised the block. I didn’t see Demarcus standing
out at the corner store where he usually sold his dope. I made a
left and rode down Barber Ave. but I didn’t see anyone. I turned
around and headed back towards Dixon since that was a dead end
street. I got back on Dixon, rode it for a block, and then made a
left on Bourquin St.
    As I was riding along I spotted the piece of
shit Monte Carlo that Demarcus owned. I slowly crept on by as if I
belonged there. I rode past his car and made a U-turn at the end of
the block. I rode up on the side of the vehicle again and noticed
that his head was leaned back on the headrest and his eyes were
closed. In his lap I saw some matted hair bobbing up and down. I
couldn’t believe this fool was getting his dick sucked by a crack
head. I tapped the window to get his attention and he sat up to
roll the window down.
    “Say nigga don’t you see I’m busy?” he
said.
    “Nah, but I see you’re dead,” I said.
    Pow, pow, pow, I shot him in the head three
times. His head exploded like a watermelon and bits of brain
fragments dripped on the crack head. She tried to sit up and scream
but I put one shot to the head and silenced her then sped off
headed towards the house.
    My heart was beating a million miles per
minute all the way to the house. I wasn’t nervous about me catching
my first body but I was afraid of being caught by the police or
Biggs. I probably was more afraid of Biggs than the police because
there is no telling what he is capable of when he is mad. When it
comes to the police though, I know exactly what I did and the
consequences of my actions so if I got caught then I would take my
time like a man. No excuses, no tears, no regrets. Fuck that nigga!
No one will get to pull a pistol on me and live to tell about
it.
    There was no turning back and no slowing
down. I think I could have made the Guinness Book of World Records
because I made it home in under twenty minutes. I admired the way
the bike had me feeling like I was flying as I whipped in and out
of lanes at top speed. I could hear the leather flapping and feel
the power of the wind as the cool air slipped through the seams of
the protective gear. Man, it was as if the speed I was going and my
heartbeat were at the same pace because when I turned on my street
and started to slow, my heartbeat slowed as well.
    Once I made about three houses down from my
home I killed the engine