Cell Story - Essay

As I ran I could feel my heart pounding, I swear almost through my chest, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. I still had a heart and I was still running from them. The hard pavement was filled with a stream of never ending circles that my eyes had been creating from loss of oxygen. As I passed people and buildings, one after the other, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was time to give up and turn in, but I’d quickly lose the thought as my mind wandered upon other things like where to turn next. Once and awhile I could hear them coming from all angles until it soon subsided just to start again. I knew prowling for a man like me in New York City would be one giant game of cat and mouse. The glorified thought of rest rushed upon me at once like a giant wave. I knew I had to stop but that would be it, I’d have to surrender then. Six months ago I committed a serious of violent crimes after being crowned Mob’s greatest man by my fellow gang. They were counting on me and although you may not have the experience, my position of authority was one I had to maintain. After seeing my name on wanted flyers and on television news broadcasts I packed up my most prized possessions and fled to New York where I’ve been hiding out ever since. Up until yesterday things were finally back on track and life was straightening out. That is, until I heard the knock. A police man was pounding at my door at 4 o’clock in the morning. I jumped from my window and ran as far away from that place as could. I checked into an old shabby motel whose bed was full of dust and I bet no one had slept in it for over a decade. The walls were covered in an old floral wall paper stained from lord knows what and the carpet was this awful color that looked ironically like pea soup. The bathroom, well I didn’t even dare open the door to find out what was in there. So there I was, all alone, in this dark, foggy motel room when I see those pretty little red and blue lights flashing outside the tiny...