Bad Cop

Authors note: This is a fictional writing piece to get my word choice score up higher.

 I told him he looks as ugly as an unpainted wall and he slapped me across the face. He yelled at me but I tuned him out. Quietly I said, “My life is a roller coaster and you make the drops in the track.”

As he was starting to walk away he whipped his head around and yelled at me to be quiet or he would kill me.I heard a pop, felt a sharp stabbing pain, and my leg was broken.

 “Do you want to know how I feel?” he yelled. “I’m so mad at you that I could explode the earth and be the only person left living!”

His words stung my ears because I was worried for my family.

 “You’re like Osama Bin Laden because you set up ways to kill people but you make other people do the killing because you’re just plain scared,” I yelled.

 I could see him trying to think of a comeback response and he said, “All I think of when I look at your body is fat, fat, fat.”

Slowly I tried to get up but he punched me in the face and I fell to the ground. The pain in my broken leg is unbearable.

 “You’re a terrible man!” I yell. “I thought cops were supposed to be nice to people and help them, not hurt or kill them.”

Swiftly he said “I thought that little boys were supposed to play with their cars and not get involved in criminal acts.”

 I heard the bathroom door slam to the wall and I saw at least twenty cops running into the ten foot by ten foot room. I passed out and the next thing I knew was that I was in a hospital.

“Wow little dude” a nurse says. “You were as beat up as a beat up person who was attacked by one million dogs that had rabies.”

“Thanks?” I asked confused.

I saw the bad cop walk into the hospital room and he stabbed the nurse in the back with a three inch long piece of glass. I tried to get out of the covers but I was strapped to the bed.

 “Can’t run now can you?” he yells.

He lifted up the glass and said that he was going to kill me. His eyes shifted and he slowly lowered the knife. I could tell by the evil look in his eyes that he wanted to slowly kill me. I saw him slowly close the hospital door and he pulled over in a cart to my bedside.

 “What are you doing?” I asked.

He did not respond. I could see the cart turning around.

 “Pick a box!” He yelled.

 I was startled by his loud and sudden demand. There were four brightly colored boxes on the table. He told me to pick one of the boxes and the contents would drive how he was going to kill me. I picked up the red colored box as fast as a cheetah can run.

“I just open it?” I asked, my voice shaking with uncertainty.

 He said yes and I slowly opened the box. Whatever it was I knew it was sure to kill me slowly.