a piece about a murder, written for my advanced writing class

a piece about a homicide, composed for my propelled composing class You could have been a holy messenger, Tyler . . . a blessed messenger like the ones in paradise, gleaming and brilliant and impeccable . . . much the same as you used to be . . .I know that.You possibly put this upon yourself when you settled on that choice . . . it was no one's decision however your own one of a kind . . . you pick your own destiny . . .I know that.Maybe some time or another you'll think back on this and snicker . . . or on the other hand we could all be practical . . . all things considered, it's few out of every odd day someone carries out this sort of wrongdoing. . .I realize that as of now! he shouted at the anonymous, nondescript thing that provoked him. Tyler ended up roosted most of the way on the edge of his bed, his hands grasping what was left of his light hair, pieces and lumps removed from his anguished attacks of anger with the voices that remained there and insulted him.Mother Frances Hospital, Tyler, TexasYou need to remain quiet . . . they'll discove red you out at some point or another, however better later . . . right Tyler?Right. He embraced his knees to his chest, peering over them and into the dim of his room, his end table approaching straight in front of him like a dull mountain, his garments heaped in hills, similar to lower regions, around it. The moon light appeared through the blinds of his window in small fragments over his floor, little slice blemishes on the rug, the ivory shaded rug that coordinated the now non-existant shade of the one nearby . . .There will be hellfire to pay for this . . . you were dumb, extremely inept Tyler . . .I know, he tolled once more, starting a consistent to and fro shaking on his...