My name is Adam Briggs and today is the day I murder my wife and kids. I own a mansion just off the coast of the Miami Beach. Been living here for, what, 14 years now; the house was gifted to me by a client I got out of jail many years ago. It stands proudly in the savanna trees, overlooking Miami like a hawk.


I live there with my wife; a 24 year-old supermodel I married from Argentina. She was Miss World of 2002 and, as soon as I watched her receive the medal at the finals, I had to marry her. She was literally my trophy wife. Used my wealth to goad her on an all-paid exotic trip to America and wedded her 3 weeks later. She birthed 2 twin girls – Anna and Lorenza – who are now 12, 13 years-old respectively.

Now I know what you’re probably all thinking: why on earth would I want to kill such a beloved family? I have it all: the model wife, lovely girls, and mansion in Miami. I’m what every guy dreams of becoming. Well, I’ll tell you why. Remember the client I mentioned who just handed me the house? He was falsely imprisoned for killing his wife and sentenced to life. Years later, some evidence enveloped that he was innocent and I, his lawyer, got him out. However, while in prison, he told me he found something that didn’t exist in the outside world. Something he secretly craved deep within as a child – the raw survival instinct. The uncertainty of whether he’d see the next day or wake up in a pool of your own blood from a slit in your throat. There was thrill! Excitement in the kill or be killed life is what the animals have, but we humans sugarcoat it with jobs, which is hideous. Why be pretentious? It made me realise something – I wanted to live in fear of knowing if I’d die tomorrow. It’s not fear, but simply life. This is what I wanted!

My wife may be pretty, but she is one self-absorbed bitch who doesn’t even put out anymore. The kids are alright, but I can’t kill their mother, go to jail for it and leave them to suffer on their own. I’m not inconsiderate. They must die, too.

I knew what I was going to do. I knew exactly how I was going to do it. When the wife gets back from work, a bullet to the head would suffice. I got an illegal firearm today; it’s concealed perfectly in its holster on my hip. Same should do with the kids. Gosh, I can’t even think about this. I’ll come up with something. In the meantime, I’ll just sit here in the balcony, inhale the beautiful Miami Beach air and wait. It’s poisonous. I never really liked it, if I’m being honest, it’s filled with stupid, artificial assholes breathing impurity into the atmosphere. The time is 4PM. Catalina, my wife, comes home any second now…

Ding Dong!

That’s the bitch! I get up and walk down the spiral staircase. My hands rubbed against my hip, ready to draw. No more conceited personality, Catalina, no more. No more attitude.

Upon opening the door, I notice that it… it wasn’t her. There were two uniformed men standing at the other side.

“Mr. Briggs, we’re from Miami PD,” said one of them. “Your neighbors claimed they saw you come home carrying a, uh, Mac 10? So they called us to check it out.”

I laughed. “No way do I carry a Mac 10, officers, I’m a lawyer.”

But I couldn’t lie – my hands were still on my waist.

“Mr. Briggs, do you mind raising up your shirt for me, please?”

And then it happened. I couldn’t risk them finding out, so I had to. Swiftly, I pulled out the gun and it barked twice, sending both policemen to the ground. They were dead.

Ahead, I noticed my wife’s Ferrari had just pulled up the driveway. She’d seen me kill them! With one quick turn, she sped off! Shit! I got in my car and followed in pursuit. Where do you think you’re going? She’d made me. Why did the stupid cops have to come at this time? Why did the neighbors see the gun? I was too lost in thought as I drove speedily, poor Catalina fleeing for her dear life, when I didn’t see the truck come out in front of me. It hit my car, and then it tumbled multiple times before finally landing on its roof, upside down. Then the engine suddenly caught fire. I tried to escape, but my seatbelt was stuck. I yanked and yanked, but it wouldn’t come out. Fuck! Nobody was close enough to get me out. I had already given off hope.

I was about to die. It was certainly my time, I’d accepted my fate. It was then that it hit me. Life is all about movement, survival of the fittest, but then again, love probably triumphs all. Helping one another separates us from the animals. Prison was made for people who wouldn’t. People like me. I shut my eyes, waiting… as the car exploded.

Yuri, @Snikoggs