A shot at romance

Chapter 1 - gone

Charlotte Crawford
Providence, Arkansas
6:45 AM
45 Minutes before the Sherwood Lane Incident

"And so, this is my last manifesto and I am sorry to those I have hurt and wish only suffering upon those who have hurt me," typed Charlotte slowly into her twitter feed. She took a deep breath, looked into the screen, and then hit enter. She flicked at the power button and was met with a blank screen. In the screen she could see the reflection of a girl, the cheerleader, the one guys would call a 10, and now, the school slut. The reflection stared back at Charlotte. She had long brown that reached to her chest and curled up at the bottom. Sharp cheekbones and sculpted curves filled her heart shaped face. On her left cheek was a diagonal scar, about a three inches in length. It filled Charlotte with sadness that the only boy she ever loved, Mitch Harrison, gave her that. She stood up and looked out the window, the sunlight warmed her skin as she opened the blinds. Squinting after sitting in darkness for so long, she saw two people walking by her window, possibly from her school, Sherwood Lane High.

Wait.... Is that.... Stacy Mckenzies, and Jennifer Hopper?

Her heartbeat started picking up, sweat creped down her frayed brown hair.

Just leave me alone. Don't look at me. I don't want to do this.

She saw Stacy stare through her window at a distance. A fit of giggles followed as Stacy leaned into Jennifer's ear to whisper. Jennifer laughed and pointed.

Every word behind my back is just as sharp as if it was said directly to me.

Charlotte's eyes started to pool in tears. She bit her lip not wanting to cry again. She hated those girls so much. She wanted them to suffer. Through the open window she could hear them speak.

"Oh my gosh Stacy stop. What if she sees? She is going to cry again," laughed Jennifer.

"Whatever," Stacy replied nonchalantly, "She is such a fake slut."

Knives, knives in my heart. It poisons the souls, tears at your mind watching your former friends, the girls who invited you to their sleepovers, the girls you told your deepest secrets to just standing there so nonchalantly.

Charlotte closed her window and slumped down to the floor. Her eyes twitched toward a metal shape on the edge of her desk and suddenly her resolve stiffened

I can't take this anymore. I have to do this now.

Charlotte stood up and clasped her hand around the handgun on her desk. Her father's M1911, capable of firing .45 ACP that could tear chunks of bone and flesh out of a living being. She had seen her father load, clear, and fire it a thousand times and he had even let her fire a few rounds at the range. But this time she would not be firing at a paper target. She raised the gun up, cleared the slide with a metallic clank, and began to move her arm into position. With one eye open and her lips pursed, she faintly nudged the trigger.

BANG! The sound echoed through her small room.

The bullet sailed through the air and smashed into the skull of Stacy Mckenzies. A blossom of blood and brain splattered on out of her once perfect face. Charlotte swung her arm in an arc, caught Jennifer in her sights, and pulled the trigger again before she could run. Charlotte couldn't decide what sounded louder. The gunshots, or Jennifer's bloodcurdling screaming.

Jesus Christ, what have I done?

Charlotte had never imagined doing something like this before. It was always herself that she was killing in her fantasy. As much as she hated Stacy, Jennifer, Mitch, and the rest of her friends who had betrayed her, murder had never crept into her mind. Charlotte felt sick. The sight of Stacy's brains splattered all across the sidewalk makes her stomach turns. The blood dripping out of Jennifer's smashed thigh was leaving a trail as she tried to crawl away.