Justified

It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night that sends all the criminals and thugs in the city scattering for cover in their hideouts
The L train that was located about 20 feet from the small, tiny apartment, ran by on its 9:14 run. It rattled and shook the whole kitchen, sending the single light bulb that barely illuminated the tiny, cramped room swinging in a wild frenzy. The kitchen consisted of a small folding card table, a rusty, noisy refrigerator, and a small breadbox that had only stale crumbs left. Bills, overdue notices, and envelopes that had WARNING- THIS IS YOUR THIRD AND FINAL NOTICE stamped across the front littered the tiny table.
As the light bulb swung about from the vibrations of the L train, the light bounced off of the blade of the butcher knife that was clenched in my hand The light hit the floor of the hallway leading out of the kitchen. I walked out of the tiny kitchen, past where the reflection had landed, to the end of the hallway where the only door in the hallway was. I grabbed and twisted the doorknob and flung the door open. A large shadow was waiting for me. I was shot in the chest and fell to the floor.

The last thing I heard before passing out was "Hello Brother."

He knew. I had been set up.