April 6th, 2016

April 6th, 2016

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Storyboard Text

  • There were no hammers in the local Rite-Aid
  • There was murder in my heart as I left for Mr. Stevens' home that evening
  • I knew where he lived, and walked fast past the local church
  • The door was unlocked, and I went in 
  • I could feel my blood pumping as I watched him
  • I closed the door after peeking around the corner.
  • He was in the living room, oblivious as I closed the door behind me
  • I don't know how he didn't hear the door close
  • I asked him for a hammer, because, I told him, my step-father didn't have one to spare.
  • He did, and, reluctantly, allowed me down in his basement. That's where it went south.
  • That night, Mr. Stevens was brutally attacked in his own home, and I was arrested shortly after.
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