Short Story prompts challenge

Morality

They say I'm crazy, but that's not true! None of them understand. It all started five years ago, when I was a sophomore in high school. I was with my friends at the time, and trying to impress them, I lit a match, threatening to drop it and burn the school down. We all laughed, not expecting what came next. My friend, Brazon, bumped into me, not expecting me to drop the newly lit match. It was a disaster. The flame caught on the carpet, and soon the whole school was filled with flames. Only three of my four friends survived, one of them on life support from smoke inhalation. It was deemed an accident by authorities, which it was, but soon rumors emerged. The narrative became that I was crazy and decided to light a match and burn down the school because I got into a fight with my friends. I haven't talked to any of them since the incident. For some odd reason, I can only remember certain parts of the night when it happened. My physiatrist said it's because of dissociative amnesia or because I'm possibly bipolar. I don't know, maybe I really am crazy.

That incident ruined my life. My parents had to pay for all the damages to the school and ended up broke. I was kicked out of my school and sent to a boarding school to finish off the rest of my high school career because no other school would accept me. My parents were especially mad about their already failing funds being used to send me to an expensive boarding school. I am now a junior in college. I go to a public school, and it's pretty chill. No one knows about the fire incident other than my friend, Adam. At first, he was a bit weird about it, but he accepted me and realized it truly was an accident of a dumb teenage me. I used to be grateful for his friendship and loyalty until everything changed.

It was a bleak, windy Thursday morning. I just got into a fight with Adam over some dumb blonde girl. He accused me of hooking up with her and, as he put it, "stealing his would-be girlfriend." She texted him last night, explaining how she already had a boyfriend who happened to be friends with him, and she hoped they could stay as good friends. Adam was furious. She hadn't shown up to school today for what I assumed was fear of Adam's post-rejection wrath. Either way, it wasn't me. Sure, Adam had a limited number of friends, but there were two plausible suspects, and he just assumed it was me. What an asshole, right? While these thoughts ran through my head, suddenly two armed police officers busted into the room. Our teacher questioned them, "What is the meaning of this?" Shit. Did they know? An officer looked around the room and set eyes on Adam, saying, "Adam Badeaux, you're under arrest for the rape and murder of twenty-one-year-old Imogen Tam. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning, if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?" I was shocked yet satisfied. It's what the asshole deserves, and I'm glad the police didn't find my drug stash. I wonder why he would be mad at me for supposedly hooking up with her if he killed her.

Everyone rushed to the hall, whispering and watching as Adam was escorted away by the police. They opened up this backpack to see a blood-stained hammer. Suddenly, my head was spinning. Why does that hammer look familiar? The memories came flooding back.

  *thirteen hours earlier*

"Why the hell would you tell Adam about us?" I yelled at her. She pleaded, "I didn't; I just said it was one of his friends; I didn't mention your name!" I don't fucking care; he'll know it was me. "This is why you're just a lonely slut who I was using for sex! We're done." I told her. She started sobbing. She panicked, "No! If you leave, I'll tell everyone about how you lit that fire and purposely killed that kid in high school, you psycho." I laughed, "Those assholes deserved it! And besides, try it; tell everyone in school. Nobody will believe some drunken whore with daddy issues." She flinched at my cruelty. "They won't believe me?" She pulled out her phone. "I've been recording this entire conversation, along with you just admitting to burning your high school down on purpose. Not only am I showing that to the police, but I will also tip them off about your drug stash." I stopped in my tracks. "You wouldn't dare!" I yelled. "Try me." She was serious. She could go to the police and have me arrested. This now means she's a loose end, and I know what I have to do with loose ends. I pulled out a hammer from my bag and held it above my head, ready to swing. She went wide-eyed with worry. "Woah. I didn't mean it! I won't tell the police anything, I swear to God! Please put the hammer down, baby." She tried to reason with me. Without warning, I hit her on the head repeatedly until her brain was mashed in. The crying and screams made the kill all the more thrilling. I have to figure out what to do with the body and murder weapon.

*present time*

Oh my god. I killed her and my high school friend on purpose. Am I a murder? How could I enjoy killing people? That's when my real identity came seeping back. Of course you enjoy it. Killing that squirrel as a kid, seeing that asshole get engulfed by fire, gleefully watching my old "friend" on life support, bashing Imogen's brains in? This is you. All of it. And you just successfully got the wrong man convicted. Nice work! I smiled with dried blood-stained hands; I guess they were right.