Minimalistic Stream of Consciousness
There's this little thing English profs like to call "stream of consciousness." Basically, it's when a narrator tells us what's going on in his or her head and all around, minute-by-minute. Think of it like a live stream, only this time we get Shorty's perspective on everything.
Shorty confides in us, "I think maybe the oxygen is running out in here. I can hear my heart—boom, boom, boom—it's like one of the beats that Biggie used to rap to. I can hear my breathing, too; it's loud and shallow" (15.1). When he does this, he's using this stream of consciousness method. It's why his story sometimes seems choppy—he interrupts himself to tell us something new or give us the details on his heartbeat, the story following his mind as it wanders.
Then there's the sense that there's always more Shorty wants to tell us, but doesn't. Sure, he reveals his deepest, darkest secrets to us, but he also always keeps something hidden so he can share the entire story. We get the sense that he tells us less than actually happened. Even though we know what went down between Shorty, Dread, and Biggie, we're always given only a few details. We don't mind filling in the rest of the picture by ourselves, though, which is exactly what we're asked to do.