The night of ass kicking wasn’t what I’d thought it be, drug dealers weren’t out in force and that was possibly because I’ve been out beating their asses and taking their money as of late, maybe the word got out. I did however come across one dealer who ended up just being some dumb ass selling fake drugs, but even the crack heads knew that so he didn’t have any money. So I came back home way earlier than usual and I wasn’t all too happy about that. Was it because I hadn’t the opportunity to kick some ass like I wanted? I mean that’s possible, and tonight I could feel a bad streak in me I was antsy and I knew it was because I didn’t get to vent. After all my life was shitty and I needed an outlet, and that outlet was kicking someone’s ass. I had this mysterious fighting skill and heightened senses coupled with above average speed and strength so why waste all that? I walked in the door and stripped down to nothing, didn’t even bother to turn the light on. The dark was a form of solace, it was comforting in an odd sort of way. Kneeling down in front of the couch I rested my arms on the couch, the clock on the wall was ticking each second that time slipped past I was full aware. It was so quiet the ticking almost seemed too loud. Was it always this loud? Who was I kidding, the ticking was a distraction from the silence. The silence had a tendency to awaken sadness in me, it would taunt me reminding me that I had no memory of my past. It was in the silence that I knew I was alone.