Dramatic Monologue

As I walked into the barbers for my weekly shave I notice the barber sharpening his razors. The colour drains from his face, and though I can not see it, I know he’s trembling. I almost laugh, it’s like he wants to be caught. I begin to remove my belt, as it holds my gun and my cartridges, the weapon that killed his allies, and notice him eyeing it nervously. I stop myself from smiling as I hang it onto the hook in the wardrobe and rest my hat on top.

As usual, I hung up my bullet studded belt, and said, "It's hot as hell, give me a shave". I explained that the other men in my troop would have the same amount of beard as I had. He seemed quite sympathetic to my situation. I make my way to the chair and seat myself, watching him as he prepares
He should know that in his story, I am the villain. I’m surprised when he doesn't kill me right then and there. He didn't even clench the blade and accidentally cut me with it. Not even a little.

When I look into his face, I can see confusion, fear and anger. I know he wants to kill me, and I know he’s afraid to do it as well. Near the end of my shave the only area left for him to do is my neck, the most sensitive part. Even I can imagine what he wants to do to me, how easy it would be to suddenly flick his wrist and slit my throat. I stop myself from breathing for a second as I feel him begin to shake as he approaches my neck with the blade. Surprisingly the blade passes my neck, barely touching the skin. As the feeling of relief overwhelms my body I then feel the grip on the blade change.

This is the final moment, I tell myself. I mentally prepare and I wait for the end to come. I only think of how fast I will die and how much blood will pour out of my viens. The mess it will make will be devastating, my dead limp body sitting on this chair and the barber staring down at me as I die. The thought makes my head spin and the lead up to this moment is