Knife in my Side | Teen Ink

Knife in my Side

March 1, 2010
By hellosmoke1 SILVER, New City, New York
hellosmoke1 SILVER, New City, New York
6 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
“I used to say, somebody should do something about that, but then I realized, I am somebody.”

I felt the cold air, hitting against my side, as my master turned me slowly and looked at my different qualities. He looked at my durability when he bent me, looked at my sharpness when he felt my edge, and looked at my glimmering shininess as he noticed his reflection on my side. He didn’t take me out of my case often, however when he did, I felt important; as though I was going to be used in some way important to my master and notorious to the world. And I was usually correct in that thought; I was used almost every time I was looked at. Whether it is the next day or that very day just several hours later, I was taken out for a run when he looked at me.
I am not taken out often, so when I am, it makes it all the more special. I enjoy the breeze that hits me. I enjoy knowing that someone is going to use me and I have purpose. I enjoy looking around at all the different surroundings I can see because I do not see them often. I despise having to be kept in a case my whole life. Trapped in my jail cell, not able to become free without the help of one brave man, who is my master. My master has kept me over a span of about six years now. He acquired me the day I was made. In the real world, in a legal sense of the word, he is a terrible human being. He is a thief. He usually robs people, but has occasionally hit a local super market or convenient store. However, many times he decides not to use me. He believes I am outdated, for he uses a gun. I am not the fastest weapon, however at times he prefers me because a knife is quiet and there is no trouble in concealing me and no crime for having me. He prefers using me to a gun, however sometimes his options are limited. It is an honor when he decides to use me. I enjoy the taste of some fresh blood or the feeling of me digging in through an opponent’s flesh. I appreciate when I am used, and I want to exercise my full capabilities into helping my master.

This occasion, he wanted to use me to perform a job with his buddy. They were planning to rob the local bagel place and wanted my help. They thought that guns were too noisy and messy and left more chances to be tracked with the use of bullets and sound. When my master began looking at me, I assumed he had just awoken for it was about 8 in the morning. He called in sick from work this day, for he was going to be working at his other job, which was robbing this store. At about 4 in the afternoon, when the bagel place was about to close up, and the cash register was still going to be unlocked, my master again took me out of my sanctuary. He gazed at me for a quick few seconds, and then replaced me in my case. When I am inside my case, I do not realize what is going on, however based on slight movements and hearing, I can conclude what my situational surroundings are.
I assumed that he was picked up by his partner, and they drove without attracting attention and parked near the bagel place in the parking lot of a super market near by. They didn’t wear their masks at first but instead snuck down to the side of the entrance, an alleyway not seen by many. They got ready, as my master took me out of his pocket and held me at his side however I was still in my case. They put on head masks that cover the whole face except the eyes, and wore gloves to protect against finger prints. Their plan was to go in through the front, and break out through the back when they finished, and slowly and inconspicuously drive home. In an ideal robbery, I was not going to be used, and most times that was the case, however this time I felt as though something was going to occur and I was going to be utilized to my full capabilities.
When they opened the door, based on my senses, the cashier was petrified and did not react because he could not process the situation. It seems he must have reached for a phone or a weapon because I was pulled out of my haven. My master drew me with great force and whipped me out to pose a threat to the employee. I was breathing heavily for something was about to happen and I saw the cashier frightened and he stopped reaching for the rifle he had under his counter. My master pulled the man by the top of his sweat shirt and told him to open the register and not to hesitate. He also yelled at him to take out his wallet and communication he had on him.
After giving my owner everything he asked for, he attempted to convince him that he had no cellular phone. However, seeing a bulge in the pocket, it was noticed that the man was lying. Without any further hesitation, my master swiped me and thrust me forward. I struck the man’s gut with great force and entered into his insides. I enjoyed the taste of blood on me or some kind of liquid for it soothes me. I felt the man’s inflaming insides; saw the man’s living organs and all the angry red blood around me; heard the pounding of his heart like a drum; tasted the blood as good as any meal to a human; and smelt the rush of the distinct smell of blood. I understood everything and felt like the world was mine.
However, my master had to leave. He pulled me out almost as soon as he put me in although it felt like an eternity. The man dropped to he ground and my master pulled out a towel. I would have been fine with him leaving the remains on me because I loved it; nevertheless it had to come off some time. He wiped me and got all the blood off my blade. He returned me to my sanctuary and got in his partner’s car. They drove off slowly pretending nothing ever happened. The ride home was smooth and tranquil. When they got to my owner’s house, I assume they split the money and went their separate ways. I could not wait until the next time I would be able to feel the wonderful enjoyment of entering a body and being taken out for a purpose.

The author's comments:
This is from the perspective of a knife in the theives pocket.

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