'Drop the weapon!' a loud shout comes from the den in the cold damp house.

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        ‘Drop the weapon!’ a loud shout comes from the den in the cold damp house. Its cold and raining, it hasn’t weeks and the city can repent again. A small, thin man is huddled over a cold and frightened child, ‘You don’t know what its like’ both the man and the child are crying like infants reborn, then the officer walks up cautiously; with his weapon in his hand he paces himself. The last thing the officer wants is this scene to be on the news tomorrow, but he knew inevitably as happening as we speak. In curiosity the officer ponders what this man is doing; the small man shoves the boy a across the sofa and stands up. ‘You don’t know what its like!’ sobbing while he presses his 45 across his chest. ‘My life has been nothing but a life of shit’ having a firm grasp of his weapon, he wings the officer in the left shoulder. Lying down helplessly all the officer can do is watch the small man staring at him. ‘I guess if you don’t know who will’ the small thin man puts his pistol across his neck then fires. The officer still on the ground is shocked in disbelief; he musters his strength to get up to look at the man. ‘Damn it, why?’ he keeps on thinking to himself ‘Damn it Timothy.’

        There is a couple ways to describe Timothy Wilson; with a very rare skin disease, Tim has lived a rough and hard life. Always being calm and polite with people, what they didn’t know is that Tim had another side to him. Timothy is an orphan, his parents died when he was only four and being tossed from foster home to foster home didn’t help either. When families saw Timothy they adored him,’ What a sweet kid’ was the most common thing said upon him. Timothy did what average children did, played with the other children in the block, even though they didn’t want to associate with him because of his disease. So, what would make this poor child alternate foster homes? All the homes Timothy has been in, the parents saw his unwilling deep and dark side. When Timothy was six he was watching TV, the usual Saturday morning cartoons, when his foster father asked him to help with him with the house. Fuck you drooled out of his mouth. With shock, the parents were standing there wondering what to do. They thought with enough love and care they could fix the boys potty mouth, but once again, that’s not true. The family dropped off Timothy at the group home. This same trend has been going on for years, it got to the point that the other children in the group home called him ‘pinball’. Timothy hated this name, but because of his passive demeanor he would let it slide for years. The name pinball was started by a young 12 year-old boy named Gabriel; Gabriel noticed that Timothy was bald and was placed in new homes about twice a year, that’s where the brewed up the name Pinball. When Timothy was 16 he was placed in his last foster home. What Timothy didn’t know was that his foster dad was a recovering alcoholic. One day his father decided to hit the bottle again, he called Timothy,’ You fucking bald ass retard, your nothing but shit.’ Timothy was paralyzed, with nothing to say he started laughing. His laughing turned into crying then he picked up a near by lamp and smashed his father in the temple, almost killing him. Timothy wisent charged for anything, in matter of fact it was the group home’s fault that they didn’t do a firm enough back round check on the family before sending him.

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        Timothy tried to live a normal life, his biggest struggle was high school. Of course he was picked on, people were calling him by his god awful nickname, pinball.

Tim had no friends, everybody disassociated with him, even the teachers. Timothy was accustomed to getting his ass kicked every week, and once again his passive nature pulled though; he never reported these beatings to anyone. There was one time that someone cared for Timothy’s well being, her name was Amanda, she was a 18 year-old with fair skin, beautiful smile, and gorgeous eyes. Timothy was in awe, he ...

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