Reflections of a Homicidal Maniac

Part I: Rich and Powerful

"Please tell your story."
"Of course"
"Carter Carrington stood at the bus stop. It had always bewildered him because it was made of gray and bronze colored bricks. The bus came over and he got on. Most kids would dread this in the morning, but for Carter, it made him happy, after all he was the most popular kid in school and his parents were rich. Stupid rich.

Carter never cared for his parents. All they did was throw money at him. It seemed like they cared for his well being, but not Carter himself. His parents had inherited all their money from their parents and had never worked a day in their lives. This is why they didn't have many friends. It was exceedingly rare for any people to come knocking on their door. In fact, it worried Carter.

On the bus, a younger kid stepped on his foot. He flipped out and screamed at the kid. Carter's one flaw: anger. Since he was eight, his parents had taken him to a therapist who simply sat and asked stupid questions that Carter didn't care about.

Immediately after brutally chastising the young boy Carter said "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened something came over me."

Soon enough, he was sitting in class between his too best friends: Abigail and Lawrence.

Abigail, never Abby. That was made clear as soon as they met. She was your average fifteen year old with an adittude. Enough said. I, Lawrence, was a studious boy. Always with a book in my hands and my A+ test ready to show. These two were the only people who cared not for his money but for who he was. Including what he would become.