I'm keeping this person anonymous. Trigger warning.
I'm standing in the elevator by myself, going up. The doors, slide open, and a girl walks in. I recognize her face as she steps inside. Judging by the disgusted look on her face, she recognized me too. I decided to make some small talk with her, because why not, you know? "Hey, how's it going?" The look on her face just screams out, 'Ew he spoke
English.' She replied, " Oh, go fucking kill yourself ,Roger!" I laughed, to show that I wasn't fazed. She laughed along. "I will."
"What?"
"Nothing. Hey look at this view!"
She looked out the window at the city. I silently slipped my backpack off and rummaged around I took out a little piece of paper and a pen. I wrote down: 'What have I ever done to you? I hope you're happy! :)' I looked around some more, and found what I was looking for. I pulled out the Baretta sitting at the bottom of the bag. I took out the magazine and checked for a bullet. One. I slid the magazine back into the Baretta. Holding the note in my hand, I moved the gun to my temple. The Baretta reflected sunlight from outside onto the window. She noticed the quick flash of light and turned around. "What the fuck are you..." She stopped mid sentence. I smiled and raised the hand with the note in it to her. Before she could even move or speak, I pulled the trigger.
I woke up.
YOU ARE READING
My Dream Book
Random"Should I make a dream book?" "No I shouldn't." "Why shouldn't I?" "Because it's gonna be fucking embarrassing!" "Your fucking embarrassing." "Fuck you!" "What time" "..." "..." "..." "Bitch I'm making that dream book."
