I suppose I should introduce myself. I guess that'd be the civilized thing to do.  Ahem. Hello there, my name is Amelia Annabelle Davis and I contentedly murdered six full-grown men in cold blood. Protruding overflows of sarcasm.  I guess what they all say is true, first impressions are everything. I'm not going to lie and say I'm innocent, though, that's what I'd like to do.  I've decided I'd start out with a slight autobiography type introduction, so you can get to know me better. Don't they all? (Slight inside joke)I'll start with the fact that I am a full-scale prostitute and am damn proud of it. I've got a f*king souped up record. Anything from grand theft to petty restraining orders or whatever other, sorta s*** you can come up with. I was born in 1974. I was born into my parents divorce and my father being charged with rape and attempted murder on a small boy. But he hung himself in prison, the goddamn coward. My mom abandoned me at five, with some people who decided to adopted me. I was very intimate, even at a very young age, and got pregnant at 13. I had the baby at a shelter for women and put it up for adoption. My grandmother beat me to near death and kicked me out of the house. And that's when i started prostituting, around 15. I can honestly say it wasn't what I wanted for myself, but it paid the bills. Im not going to put blame on my past for my wrongs for today, but they sure did account for a lot of it. Moving on, I suppose I'll skip forward to the predicament I have so, unfortunately, found myself in. I've been sentenced with six counts of murder against me and lots of perjury, sending me straight into the needle's drowning hands. I have a measly two weeks before I get to have my heart stopped, dead. No f*ng pressure to make myself a better person or anything. I'm guessing that you're wondering about the murders by now, though I'm inexplicably sure that you've been wondering about that for awhile now. They were about a ten years ago, up until around a year ago. The first was some piss-off Best Buy store clerk, who I swear was a registered sex offender. My agrument was "self-defense," the jury didnt see it my way. The second, a piece of s*** SVU investigator and former captain of the NYPD. The daring third, Some crappy alcoholic construction worker. The fourth, a passing by-standard. The fifth, a dumbed down car salesman. And last, but not the least, a half-poor lawyer from the upper-eastside. All "good men."But where should I start? I suppose I'll start at the beginning...

"Hoot, Whistle, hoot!" Great. "Hey, over here...that's right paying customer." The flailing blindside of the moon shown heart-shocking, white encrusted beams of light down upon the defiant lines of the broke-back street curb.  A slight wave in my direction. I knew it was my turn again. I walked up to the black 1986 piece of junk Mustang. I kept my head up high, letting ego spew from every sway of my hips. The reeler.  "How much?" A slight wink accompanied his question. Telling him my rates, I sized him up. I bet he works at a Walmart or something. Electronics.  White, thin and lanky. He had uncombed dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. Dork.  "Sorry honey, I ain't got that type of money."F***. That figures. "Well, you want, you pay full price." I turned to walk away. Thank the f*ing lord, I thought, at the least I can go flag down a better looking paying customer. A high-end and chilling autumn breeze pulled at my mini skirt. Sprawling my chestnut brown hair across my face and down my back. Something about this rise in the wind gave me a eerie feel. Click. Boom. A car door slamming shut, the sound of heavy footsteps trailing behind me. He had gotten out of his car. Ah, s***. A scrawny arm came out from behind me and grabbed my arm. "Hey!" "I'm sorry," he looked at me with shameful eyes", I have the money." Now thats more like it. A short trudge to his Mustang and a handover of the money. Dolled up with an extra hundred. Climbing into the right-hand side I got a full blast of stale Cheetos and cheap aftershave. Yummy.  Getting into the business was upon me as soon as I sat down. But he barely knew what to do. I reached down into my purse, lying in-between my disregarding knees. The feel of the smooth and cool snake skin felt somewhat soothing against my rough and overworked hand. I dug through the seemingly endless black-hole of miscellaneous objects, but could I find it? Bingo. I pulled it out slowly, making no effort to care whether or not he noticed. I positioned it just right and... Bang!  Three more shots set off. His body slumped forward and the f*ing goon;was finally gone

A surmounting act of freewill and a sense of pride can be distinguished by the momentum of our actions. I do believe my actions have shown true of this, if you look at it from my perspective.  "Boom, clap. Boom, clap, clap." The echoing sounds of blaring techno music spread throughout the air around me. Every drop in the bass could be felt within every inch of my body. Like a long lost lover, the vibrations carried me in their caressing binds. I loved the streets.  Night came surprisingly quick today, seven customers in and I was doing pretty good. A  torrential down pour carried throughout most of the day. The rain. The smell of it's  Charismatic and cordial embrace kissed my senses. It fills my lungs with final purity and Propaganda-like peace. A sweet relief.  A trip-pity step onto my delicate angelically tear-stained corner, home.  "Woo-Woop." Ah, f***. A lone unmarked sleuthing car rolled up beside me. It's rim was slightly bent in, what's new. The car's window rolled down like a bank statement. A man sat in the front seat, a cop, no doubt.  He had a large build, mostly muscle. His gleaming evergreen-tinted hazel  eyes breathed a man's man. The upmost confidence, with a slight hint of self-loathing, prowled across his face. His buzz cut embarked the essence that he was a strong man, a fighter.  "How ya doin' tonight?" Oh, save the good cop routine. "Fine officer....just fine." A plastered smile spread across his cheeky face.  "That's good to hear, are you working this corner?" An interesting, but entirely predictable question to ask. "Maybe I am and maybe I'm not." Ooh. Flirty. "Well I think you and I know both know the exact answer to that question, don't we?" F*** this! Time to bail. I turned to leave, but by the time I did the cop is already on me. I'm caught, again. "No need to worry ma'am, I'm just going to take you down to the station and get you off these streets." F*** that. I struggled against his massive hands, wrapped over the middle of my arms. But all in all, he wins. "Watch your head." I was carefully pushed into the glassy backseat of the car. No wire cage? The cop gets into the drivers seat and turns on the radio. This must not be a cop car, that means no locks. "I'm just going to set you down at the station and get you all settled in." To f*ing hell you will. He never searched me. The dumbass. Does he know of my pretty little friend hiding away in the folds of my skirt? Well, he'll f*ing know now. I slip my hand down into the confines of my skirt, like a skilled spelunker. I felt the Devil's regarding hand as I carefully pull it out to the awaiting world. The unsuspecting cop looked into the rearview mirror, attempting to catch a glimpse of his overgrown catch.  Perfect timing. I pulled the hand of God back and delicately reached for her trigger. The seductive light that erupted through the cops eyes had gone entirely. He saw her coming. Good-bye. BANG!

When I was younger, I used to lie all the damn time. Sometimes it was to get my way or make others happy. I used to lie about f*ing trips to the Grand Canyon and Disney World, just to fool others and even myself into thinking I had a life. I could never look my damned self straight in the eye, I could see the liar pilfering around behind my starry blue eyes.  I can taste her even before she runs loose, feel her flicker back and forth beneath me. Just another tall-tale, a fib, a little white lie.  I can't remember every lie I ever told, but I know I've told enough to send me straight to f*ing Hell ten times over. It's hard to believe sometimes...I could be so dishonest, even with myself. I bet you're wondering why exactly I am telling you this, well my problems all started because I lied...

It's the sensation. The sensation of touch, how it plucks at every bit of raw pleasure in your body. Nothing is more erotic than a innocent slight brush of the skin. The tingling, how it takes you completely. It lures you in, with it's impressible and lingering hands. Sweeping across every nerve ending, caressing your freewill in it's oblique and unfaltering palms. It squeezes you flawlessly until you finally learn to give in. Flouncing inevitable damnation like a bright red slit of sugar moor candy and even long after the graze, it still stings like crevasse.  *Inhale* *Exhale* Sigh, another Wednesday night.  "Foterre." I spat under my breath, creeping slowly on to Main Avenue, 42nd street to be exact.  I push past the detestable bite of the nippy December waft, gripping at my every whim to give up trying to fight against it's endearing grip. I look up. The piceous night sky gorged with unmatchable and beauteous glittering stars scour heavenly umbras of budding cream  upon each swaying leaf on the maple trees.  Hmmmhmmmhmm... The decadent whispers of frail leaves skipping across the earthy floor, they screamed for order and sanity in their lost and perpetual lives. I suddenly felt an abrupt sense of empathy, I felt their mounting prayers for some essence of peace.  "Hahahahaha!" Huh. A lingering s***-holed drunk. I'd better stick around, just in case. I turned towards the intensifying sounds of a f*ing smashed guy being entirely too amused by his surroundings. Typical.  A juicy red Ford F150 was parked on the side of the road, just idling anonymously.  It was just asking for trouble.  A somewhat large white male sat in the driver's seat, rolling his aching head around and around. Unknown to him, I approach the right-hand side of the truck.  A glossy finish, a quadruplet of 22s, full enough bed and a bet-able fast engine under that enticing hood.  This will be quite riveting. "Mmm, howdy." I stroll up to the window, striking a leaned-over pose. The kicker. Apparently I had caught off his guard, he jumped about six feet, hitting his browned head atop the truck roof. "Oof...uh sorry Miss, I didn't really see you there." A flaky smile flames across his saturated, fatty face. A slight giggle, f*ing with him.  "You, uh, working this here corner?" Motioning to the situation he has so ironically found his drunk rear end in.  "Mmhm, running late just for you." A sweet and engrossing smile, the sealer of the deal. "Sounds just bout' 'mazing Miss." Like I could really understand what exactly he meant, I doubt he even knew what he was saying. "Well how bout' it?" A devilish and sly grin spread across his face, he pulled out a few hundreds and I knew the quota was about to be reached. He beckoned for me to get in, fixing the mess littered across the passenger's seat. I cautiously glanced around the neighborhood. Too close knit, someone could hear...someone would hear. "Hey sweetstuff, you mind if we drive somewhere a little more Secluded?"  I flashed him a quick peek of what was to come and his eyes flashed like fireflies.  "Sure nuff Miss," A drunken burp escaped the crease of his lips ",might as well get totally lost." A varied chuckle shook his dazed stare as I climbed in. He reached for the ignition, revved the truck and shot off. The filmed blur of passing streetlights and endless rows of buttered-up froofroo trees lined the streets.  Then, nothing. Absolute solitude.  Perfection. F*ing music to my ears. "So, how bout' here lil Missy?" Placing a lingering hand on my thigh. Ha. You just wait and see fucker, you are going to get the ride of your life. Best savor as much meaningless time as you can. "Sure." Give him no hint that he should fear you. "Okay sweety." He shut off the purring engine, slowly halting in a desert-like barren waste of Earth.  He switched his body so it was on me, the usual. My purse laying right next to my left thigh, cajoling me to explore it's many secrets. Time to veer left and get on top. I pushed him into the driver's seat, he didn't have the slightest fault in trust with me as I took over.  I gripped the sides of my purse and swiftly brought them to my chest. The guy didn't sparsely notice my hands leave his grabbing body.  I reached within the confines of my purse, as I have done before. I decide to kiss it, I felt a unbearable sense of love for my 9mm revolver. It's precious glow stung my eyes, I could barely take my eyes off of it. I guess this is goodbye, how shameful. Pop! Pop, pop, pop! The sound rang deliciously in my ears, like church bells on Christmas. One last grunt escaped his lips. A wondrous addiction.

*Umph*
Good God. Could he weigh anymore?
*Thunk, thud*

One loveless nightly firefly danced in front of me. Beautifully prancing to and fro with the grace of 1,000 white doves. Tastefully grasping every gust like a frail feather, painting every inch of the sky with neon glimpses of perfect pale green.
Blood dripped from my cheek. It was the most natural feeling in the world. Like a bright red apple, it floated down the crevices of my cheek. It stained anarchy and freedom, forever, upon that decadent rosy cheek. 
For there were a God, he would shamelessly expel my ticket to heaven in exchange for a one-way free ride to Hell. First class.
The scent of his blood tickled my everlasting immortality, left me knowing only of today and not of tomorrow. His faulty weight smashed up against mine as I protestingly dragged his scarred carcass down the dirt shackled road. The moon was abruptly shuttered behind a few miscellaneously placed clouds, wishing to bask in the beauty that shown from that very moon. How indifferent, to feel the cooling blood of my victim pour down my arms and river across the creases in my hands without a single regret. 
*Scraaaap*
This was a truly memorable night, the bloodied face of my final victim burned a well deserved place in my memoirs. The river was just up ahead, but it felt like ages. It felt like a whole nother' world away. It felt like it couldn't come sooner.
I concentrate on the sounds around me; the melodic symphony of eavesdropping crickets played a silvery tune as I trudged on by. A light ratter of leaves shifting to my left, radiating a sly animal on the hunt hoping this was it's next meal. The smell of his flowing blood, it smelled like newly washed pennies and a McDonald's Big Mac. Delicious. How I'm very proud at this moment to be a vegan.
A spittle of mossy hissing followed my every step, but I paid no attention. For I, was on a mission. I can hear the water, its crashes playing an orchestra of rhythmic tones within my still heart. Each gulp and every last chop felt like a minute, a second closer to home. 
This is it. I pray, this is it.
His button shaped nose was positioned at a forty five degree angle in the opposite direction. His hair riddled with slimy decaying leaves and half-dead insects praying for the end to come. His eyes half open, desperately trying to put closure to this "unfortunate" night. His suit, once black, but now caked with mud and sooty black dirt. Twigs of every shape and size jutted out from ever angle, every half inch a leaf popped out for a quick view of their soon departure. Blood stained for eternity embarked across his attire.
His watery grave stood before me. I looked one last time at his face. Black and blue blisters spread all over his body, skin torn with a sneak peek view of what was underneath. Muscles half tensed, pieces of them falling out of each incision. Blood now scabbing mercilessly around his body. His fingers twisted every which way, jet black and stone cold. No mercy.
I looked put onto the river, it's waters rough and inviting. White foam clouded the surface and every few seconds you could hear the heavenly gasp of the waves as the broke free for a breath of fresh air. 
Tonight, the weather was fair. Quite warm, calm.
A grand night for a little swim. I looked down at my hands once more, blood stains eating away at my white flesh. I dragged him to the very edge, a smile broke out across my face. I closed my eyes, seeing his corpse flash before my eyes. A kick was all it took, to send him on his way. On his funeral, out at sea.

Two weeks.
They only gave me two weeks.
I can't even believe this junk, they really expect me to learn my lesson in two weeks?
The Lord must not really care. Figures. Well, I can't say I didn't try to forgive myself. I suppose what I did was friend and unjustly wrong. That's the truth of it and I'll stick with that. In these last two weeks I have not told one lie. Amazing right? Psh. I suppose trying to be a good person one last time doesn't hurt. Being "civil" and such. But it does make a difference, I believe what I feel and see in myself more. I used to think, she's nothing. She will never be anything more than just a piece of crud. Nothing more. But I now know, I was lying to myself. I could be more, can be more. I just never tried. I see what good I can be, what truly lies beneath. And not what I was alway telling myself. 
I know that I may never be and probably wont be forgiven for what I have done and I have come to terms with that. I understand. 
It only takes one realization to open your mind up to what you are and what the world can be. I learned it's natural and human to cry. I always said," You are weak and a failure if you cry," but that's not true. 
I can't tale back what I did, never wanted to, actually. And I'm not sorry, that's just the truth. I've learned id rather tell the truth and get called out for it, then rather taste another bitter lie upon my tongue. 
The table is being rolled in, the doctors are setting up the needle. That wonderful needle. There is a crowd of people, but I'm too out of it to care what they are screaming. Probably," Go to Hell," or my favorite, censured profanities I wouldn't even have the audacity to use in public. 
The walk to the table is breathtakingly painful. My heart is racing uncontrollably. I wish it would just stop right now. I lay down. No one looks at me. I don't blame them. Three doctors line up and stick me with several needles. None hurt, I feel no physical pain at this point. It's like being on Novocain, just loopy and droopy. Each doctor lines up across the glass window, they all take a button in their hand. And a final count down rains over the room.
1.
2.
3...
I forgive you.

The dead they sleep...

The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
And now I sleep too, but nobody weeps for me.