It pays to have a large schoolbag. Walking to school with an AK47 digging into your back is so much easier when you’re schoolbag is three time larger than the average student’s. My high tops scuffed along the pavement, while my rifle nudged my spine, hitting my vertebra with every step I took.
It pays to have an alcoholic father whose idea of a hero is Charlton Hesston wielding his favorite firearm. When your father is more interested in protecting his massive gun collection, than taking his son out to play catch, you kind of realize where you stand in the world.
It pays to have a locker located in the far corner of the richest and most pretentious private school in Beaver Meadows, PA. That way you can carry a small piece of arsenal in your very large schoolbag every day for exactly 31 days. That way you can plan something that hasn’t been done in your own backyard. That way you can get back at every sorry sack of shit that ever made you cry.
When you hardly say a word you might as well be invisible to the 300 students that populate these halls. You wish you were invisible, but you’re not as invisible as you feel. All the bruises on your arms and legs remind you of exactly how visible you are, and how invisible your feelings are. For two years, this school has replaced its daily schedule from learning and molding young minds, to torturing and emotionally scarring … me.
I decided to keep the AK47 tucked away in my sizeable bag. No use shoving it into a locker while being surrounded by the 300 strangers that judge you every second. I wondered what it would feel like to put a hole in someone’s head. After 31 days of hiding what I was going to do, I was ready to enter each classroom with all the rage that had bottled up over the years.
I stood by my locker as stranger upon stranger shoved pass me. I didn’t want anyone to notice the massive firearm I was carrying, so I pretended to fumble through textbooks and trapper keepers. My eyes scanned through the crowd. I saw the people laugh at me, point at me, snicker, and stare. Everyone in this school had a personal agenda to make my life a living hell. As I ran my finger across the cover of my Geometry textbook, I imagined what it would feel like to throw my home made pipe bomb into the gymnasium, or spray the hallway with hundreds of bullets.
Then I heard her. I could recognize her voice anywhere. I didn’t even have to turn around but I could still picture her long golden hair. I could smell her perfume. Her perfume was the only thing that keeps me semi-conscious in 4th period. I looked up from my locker to take a look at the goddess that I adored. She was talking to her usual circle. The perfect little prisses that didn’t give a shit about anyone but themselves, all laughing and acting as fake as they always do.
She was different. She always smiled, and I mean always. She would say hello to me, even if I hadn’t said a word. She was perfect. She was everything that I wanted and more. If someone pushed me, she would ask if I was alright. If someone made fun of me, she would tell them to stop. It was like she was using her powers of social status for good instead of evil. My hero. My savior. My Goddess.
I loved her so much it hurt. It didn’t matter how nice she was to me, or how much she meant to me. I wanted her. I wanted her to be mine, but the social circles just wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t even try. I didn’t stand a chance. It killed me, because she was so perfect for me, and I wasn’t allowed to have her.
I folded back into my locker. My safe haven where all my insecurities were going to be avenged. No one was watching, and I brought my bag closer to the fresh blue paint that was smeared across the locker. I ran my fingers across my History book and straight to the back of my haven. My fingers found the cold familiar steel that I used to craft my own homemade weapon. I held my hand there. Touching and loving the thing that was going to silence all of the bastards in this school. I started to feel this unbelievable power rush over me. My trigger finger began to itch. I wasn’t willing to wait much longer, but I wasn’t about to just start taking off heads just yet. I needed to bide my time. I had the entire day. What was another hour or so?
The bell began to ring, and one by one students made their way into a classroom. I stood at my locker. All I had to do was get through a few classes and I could finally start shooting. I opened my bag and began to place my weapons one by one inside. With every little thing I took out of my locker, my excitement and lust for blood began to rise. Then I heard her again. I heard her voice… and someone else’s.
They were standing by the Men’s room. She was smiling and tossing her hair back. She looked so beautiful, and I dreamed of her smiling and laughing with me every night. She was standing with the same polished boy that I’ve seen her with. He was a superficial piece of shit that made it his personal mission to rule this school. Then it happened. She leaned in, and I knew what was going to happen. I don’t know why I didn’t stop it before she did it, but she kissed him. Those lips that were supposed to be mine. That action that was only supposed to happen to me was happening to someone else.
My trigger finger began to itch again. All of the blood drained from my face, and was replaced with my lust for blood. It began pulsing through my veins. I wasn’t about to wait any longer. There they were, standing right in front of me. Mocking me. My legs began to quiver and I could hardly stand anymore. I ran my fingers to the back of my locker. I could hear all of them laughing. I could hear her laughing. I could see her hair. I could see him stealing her from me. I could feel the cold metal that was going to free me from all this pain.
My trigger finger took its righteous place gripped around my 9mm. I didn’t bother to place it in my bag. Why would I hide it now? Why would I wait any longer? I drifted towards the young couple. I couldn’t feel my feet hitting the floor. With every step that I took my trigger finger began to itch more and more. Her hands were around his waist. His fingers were running through her golden hair. I wanted her to be mine. I was tired of everything being taken from me.
Then I heard her voice.
“Charlie!”
She was smiling. She was looking right at me. I guess since Charlie is my name, she was talking to me. Her man just looked at me, and they both didn’t notice the gun that was in my hand. So I raised it to the level of his eyes. Her smile faded, and my trigger finger pulled back slightly to release a bullet directly into his brain.
I didn’t hear her voice anymore, but the shrieking of her vocal chords. The shattered fragment of brains and skull splattered across her face and mine. In some sick way it seemed very romantic. The two of us were sharing a very important moment in my life. This is how I wanted to remember her.
Tears were running down her beautiful face, and her hands were furiously tugging at her golden hair. She kept saying my name, like we were in the middle of some beautiful lovemaking. Saying my name over and over again. She dropped to her knees and was paralyzed from the fear she felt. I looked down on her lovingly and turned my firearm towards her. I placed the barrel gently on the side of her head. Her vocal chords began to screech again, but the speed of the bullet into her brain quickly put the sound on mute.
Her body dropped to the floor, and her blood covered the front of my uniform. Fragments of her skull and brain were smudged across my face; and I could taste her blood on my lips. This was the closest I would ever be to her. This was the only time I would be in contact with any of her body fluids, and I loved it.
Students began to flood from their prospective classrooms. Calling for my name, her name, and the boy’s name. I reached into my bag and pulled out the AK47. I just started shooting anything that moved. Once one body fell, the herd started to run the other way. Bang. Down went another, and another, and another. Some heroes tried to rise from the masses, but I quickly brought them down with a small piece of metal.
Eventually the police started to show up. The local news was broadcasting this disaster to every corner of the United States. But I was happy. I was smiling for the first time in that school. I was having fun. Then I realized… that it wasn’t going to get any better. I looked down the hallway, and didn’t find any more victims. There were a few bodies sprawled out on the floor, but nothing worth shooting again. This was the happiest moment of my life, and this is where my life needed to end.
So amongst the bodies, decay, screaming, and flashing red and blue lights I found happiness. My life was over and I was going to end it at the highest point possible. So I brought the barrel of a gun up to my crooked grin. Took one more look around at the disaster that I caused… and painted the lockers with fragments of my brain and skull.
