This is a revision of a post that I had here, originally comprising the next two chapters of the story.

When I posted it, there were comments that the whole of what was chapter 5 at that point was gratuitous, unnecessary violence. I responded, saying that I had felt it was needed, but afterward, I pretty much gave up on continuing the story.

That was how it stood until a few days ago, when i decided to revise it, in effect removing all of the fifth chapter, and providing an alternate set of actions that led to the same result, the capture/arrest of the main character.

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On September 14th of that same year, Momma was beaten and robbed again, right there in our apartment, by another john. While he was beating her, I went into my room, opened my closet, moved a few items around and pulled out the box containing the antique Glock 19 pistol that belonged to my great-great-great-great-grandfather, who served in the US Army in the last quarter of the 20th century, then as a state trooper in South Carolina.

In the same box that held the gun, there was a small bag filled with fifteen shot magazines for the Glock and a pamphlet describing how to clean and care for the gun; I had spent many hours reading that little pamphlet, until I knew it inside and out, and had tried my best to make sure the gun was in good operating condition.

Once I had everything that I wanted, I waited, lying on my bed as quietly as possible, listening to the shouting and the thumps and thuds as he knocked her around her room; after a few minutes, Momma apparently calmed him down, and they returned to the bed, the creaks and squeaks coming from the bed making it very clear what they were doing.

Finally, I heard him talking quietly to Momma, then moving toward the outer door of the apartment. I waited a moment, listening to Momma as she returned to her room. As the door closed behind him, I slipped into the family room and activated a hidden monitor by whispering the word “infinite”. A few seconds later, I could see him walking away from our apartment in the direction of our level's business area. I was determined to keep him in my direct line of sight until he returned to his home.

After checking to make sure that Momma wasn't coming out of her room, I opened the outer door and left the apartment, holding the door to ensure that it closed as quietly as possible, then began to follow the man. As he walked toward and then through the business area, I watched him constantly, noticing that he never looked back. Several minutes later, he stepped on a walkway and pulled out an elevator remote call button, letting the walkway carry him for about a hundred meters before he stepped off and walked toward the elevator located in the corridor's inner wall. As he approached the elevator, I moved quickly, following close behind him as he entered it. He didn't recognize me at all, so I felt confident as we were lifted skyward.

When he exited the elevator and stepped onto another walkway, I was directly behind him. I remained within several feet of him until he left the walkway at an intersection close to his home. Eventually, he stopped by a door and used his access key to open it, dropping it back into his pocket as he stepped in through the doorway.

I moved in fast, brought the gun up with both my hands wrapped firmly around the butt, and shot him at least a dozen times in the back, the trembling in my hands causing the gun to waver back and forth, up and down as I kept pulling the trigger, making entry holes all over his back as he slowly toppled to the carpeted floor of his foyer. Then, still trembling, I reached down with my left hand, rolled him over onto his back, checked the pistol, noticed a bullet still in the chamber, lowered the gun until it was touching his forehead and pulled the trigger again.

I looked around briefly, my fear of being discovered growing by leaps and bounds, then quickly searched him; I found his wallet in one pocket, his access key and elevator remote call button in a second, and some small change in a third.

With the gun still in my hand, I turned and ran toward the elevator, using his remote call to bring it up to his floor. Once by the elevator, I was forced to wait, and my emotions began to overtake me, mostly the worry of being found so close to the scene, but also the fear that I might be caught, and what might happen as a result.

Finally, the elevator arrived, and with a quick sigh of relief, I stepped into it, only to find myself walking right into the hands of several security people and two police officers. I was so shocked that I squeaked in alarm, tried to turn around so I could run away, but the officers grabbed me by the arms just as I started to turn.

Realizing that I was truly caught, I started to shake like a leaf, trembling harder and harder, my head whipping from side to side, looking for a way out. No escape was possible, as they were holding on to me quite firmly, and the fright and worry overloaded my mind, turning everything into blackness.