leATHERMØUTH -frerard-

5th Period Massacre

It's done. It's always been done. The idea had been brewing for so fucking long, surprised I hadn't sealed the deal with the devil sooner. My dad- I always knew he had a .45 in his closet... I grabbed the sucker like a thief in the night.

My plan was to use that gun and all of its ammo. It had enough to shoot everyone and their cousin! It was great! I was sitting in my truck, loading my father's .45. I just had to wait until the bell sounded for 5th period to end. That was when I'd strike.

Those hellions... they think they can push me around, break my bones, call me slurs, and chase me home and not expect me to get my revenge? Ha! What idiots! They called me things even I wouldn't utter. Such horrible scum bags. They broke my jaw once and now it's all messed up. They pushed me to the ground and pounded my face into the dirt with their feet until they heard my jaw break.

The bell sounded.

I smirked.

I jumped out of my truck and cocked the gun. It was a free period so everyone would be all around the school. My planning was genius. I wiped my face and continued towards the school. I heard a few people notice me outside and what did I do? I shot them. Straight in the head. Did I feel anything? Nope. My happiness of my final Revenge just filled me from head to toe. Adrenaline, my old friend.

I was in a full dash towards the school now, laughing to myself. I burst through the doors and shot everyone in view. It was ten people at least. They all dropped dead and I stood for one second to stare at them. I continued towards the set of lockers that they would always shove me in. I shot everyone who was there. They all screamed. And they all fell, dead. My adrenaline felt like a drug and I couldn't get enough. I was turning trigger happy.

"Who's the fool, now! Ha!" I laughed, running as I headed to my next destination.

I was in the boys bathroom where they bruised me so many times. And not to my surprise, they were in there.

"Come for another-"

"Dude, he's got a gun..."

"He's covered in blood!"

I screamed with rage as I pulled the trigger on all of them. They all dropped dead and I laughed as I reloaded. They thought that apologizing would convince me not to shoot them dead, but it was all lies. They just didn't want to die. That's how it always was. Humans will do anything to escape death.

I strolled out to see a few teachers running around and just to put them out of their misery, I wasted a few bullets on them. Wait, no. I didn't waste them. They had done things to me too. They all had. Very few hadn't. Only one hadn't. I would make sure not to hurt that one. They didn't deserve this.

But everyone else did!

I laughed, shooting a group of girls who had bullied me to tears in 6th grade. I cackled, shooting a crowd of football players who had beat me mercilessly in the parking lot. I reloaded again, wiping blood and sweat off of me.

I continued upstairs and shot anyone who stayed long enough to make eye contact. Which was almost everyone. I knew the shooter drills. "Close the blinds and turn off the lights and no one will know that you're there!" Lies. I just had to break open the window on the door and then I could shoot. It was easy. Simple.

I shot maybe over 50 people when I heard a soft cry. I almost shot, but then realized who it was. It was him. He was sitting against the blood covered lockers. The one who had never hurt me. He was so kind to me. He was so nice and caring. He would ask if I was okay when he ran into me. He helped me up when I got pushed down a few times and always walked me to the nurse. He was always looking at me and would always look away. I was fascinated that someone here didn't hate me. In fact, he didn't hate anyone. He was the human embodiment of good intentions, kindness, sweetness, and not to mention shyness.

He was covered in blood.

...and he was crying.

"Frank," he cried, reaching out, "please. Stop..."

I was confused, "Why should I?! They hurt me!"

"Come closer, please..." he asked very softly.

I did. I came closer and almost cried with him. A bullet had somehow grazed his shoulder. I felt horrible. He reached out to me and I kneeled down in front of him.

"Put it down." He pointed to the gun, speaking very gently, "Let me hold you..."

I nodded and as soon as his bloody skin touched mine, I started to cry. He held me, my head on his chest, my hands clutching to his shirt. He petted my messy hair. It was blood and sweat infested.

The world stopped. There was screaming and rushing, yes, but the world stopped. The loudest thing was his singing voice. It was quiet. It was sweet. It relaxed me. I listened to his words.

"Don't you remember, you told me you loved me baby? You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby. Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh baby. I love you, I really do..." His voice whispered the last line and I felt myself sob.

The police arrived and were standing around us. I clung tighter to him in hopes of never having to let go. He continued to sing.

"Loneliness is such a sad affair and I can hardly wait to be with you again. What to say to make you come again? Come back to me again and play your sad guitar..." His voice cracked when they tried to get him off of me.

They told him that he could lead me out. We were both covered in blood and tears. I didn't have any regrets... why was I crying? Oh. It was because I hurt him. It was because of his soft voice. He wasn't scared of me. He just wanted to hold me and sing. Not even my own parents did that.

He sang as we passed the bodies and carnage, "Don't you remember, you told me you loved me baby? You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby. Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh baby. I love you, I really do..."

He was hugging me in front of the cop cars. Specifically the one that was for me. My head was just under his and his long hair tickled my face. I smiled, holding onto his uniform blazer. He squeezed me tighter, slowly letting me go afterwards.

He wiped away blood and tears from my cheek and kissed my forehead, repeating the chorus again, pulling me close. The police were patient before and now they were growing tired of us. They asked him to let go of me and slowly, he did.

He took one of my hands, handing me a crumpled paper.

I opened it in the back of the car. It said, "Take care. Come back safe."

...

I bolted awake, cold sweat coming out of every pore.