Consequences: Last Words

(Some stormy nights were made for sadness.)

I watched her go, probably for the last time. I was envisioning a Hollywood romance, and all I got was a raincloud over my horrible day. It was in May, I think, when my world came tumbling down. People always thought I was crazy, and in May I proved them all right. How? I killed them.

Violence is never the answer, let me say that from the start. I've never been a bad guy, but violence is prone to befall even the best of us. Even the violent are victims of their own crimes. The conscience is as vulnerable as the flesh. When she left me I cried, yes I cried like a little girl. Then I made up my mind to hurt her. I'd hurt her and hurt everyone she knew. I would no longer stand by and watch my life rot before my very eyes. Violence seemed like a good idea at the time.

I did my research. I stole a two 9MM semiautomatic pistols from my friend's Dad. Those were for backup. The real damage was to be done by my own 12 gauge pump shotgun. Yes, fear the wrath of the shotgun shell at close range. Nobody could stop me. I made a floor plan, and marked all the exits. I researched where I'd enter, when I'd start shooting. I wanted all of my targets in the same room at the same time. I'm not very good at shooting moving targets, so I'd make sure all of those bastards were so stunned they'd be frozen in place like wax figures. It would be like target practice.

I went to bed early the night before the big event. I dreamed I had wings, and I was flying high over the town. I flew to her house, but she wasn't there. Then I was falling, falling, falling. I woke up before I hit the ground. Nobody dies in their dreams.

I woke up fresh and early, tucked the pistols into the front of my jeans, and told my mother goodbye. I probably should've kissed her on the cheek, since I'd never see her again. I probably should have told her I loved her, and no matter what happens, she was one of the only people I ever cared about.

But I didn't. I wish I would have, but I didn't. Hindsight is always 20/20, I guess.

I grabbed the shotgun on the way out, and plenty of shells. I arrived early to watch everyone arrive. Hundreds of them, like ants...many of them marching to their deaths. They were totally unaware. I was their God right now; I was their destiny. They didn't even pay me any notice. The one in the red shirt, he had to die. The one in the khaki pants and the sweater, he had to die. The pretty brunette in the denim skirt, I'd blow her face off. I ruled them.

In the back of my mind, something told me to stop. It was a voice I'd become familiar with-the little angel on one shoulder, speaking into your ear: "Don't do it! They're innocent! The problem lies in YOU!" The devil won this battle long ago. I was just carrying out his will.

I guess a part of me wanted to listen to that voice. Part of me never wanted to shed blood. The truth is, looking back on it, I don't really have any good reason for what I did. I guess nobody told me NOT to.

I reached over, gripped the shotgun in one hand, and got out of the car. Slowly, confidently, I made my way toward the front door of the school and my demise.