He Plays It Like He's A Superstar★ (A Mindless Behavior Sequel) [UNEDITED]

Sinister.

lawdd . ; you just gotta read for yourself .

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[Monologue #21]

People have ways of relieving their pain — a need of closure, tears, anger, blaming themselves, suicide...or revenge.

People are getting terminated today...and it'll be unsuspected of.

The average one of the group is ready to attack.
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{South Fulton Medical Center, Wednesday October 19th, 11:59 pm}

(Prod is sitting in his chair across from Naty's room as the flashback of Naty jumping out the window replayed in his head. Silent tears rolled down his cheek as his anger towards everything arose. He stood up and slowly walked to Naty's room. He broke down into full on tears as her picture of her and Prod looking each other in the eyes laid on her bed)

Prod: (P.O.V.: She died...right before my eyes...)(looks at her bed and finds a long note. He picks up the first two pages and reads)

[First Two Pages]

Dear anyone who reads this,

My life has finally ran it's course. I couldn't bare to live this life anymore. I had a rough life and I grew tired...and scared. Don't bury me. Creammate my body and save the ashes for my 21st birthday on February 28th (or on the 29th 'cause I'm a leapling). Let them free.

My thoughts are here, though my presence is not.

Prod, you are my everything. Your soul passed through mine every single day I lived. I know you're probably mad at me...But I couldn't let you see me damaged. I didn't want to be a burden. You understood me, babe. You calmed me down, helped me conquer my fears, and you made me smile. You helped me with my eating disorder and that's something I will always love you for. I love you to death. (LOL, get it?) Whatever you do, don't come up here yet. Just live your life. Find yourself a girl like me. Marry her. Love her like you loved me. Just don't forget me. I love you forever chicken butt. :)

[End Of First Two Pages]

Prod: I love you too, Naty Bear. (picks up the other pages and puts them in his pocket. He takes a deep breath, then grits his teeth as anger washed over his face. He walks out the room and storms outside in the pouring rain. A lightening bolt strikes and Prod walks down the nearest alley. He finds a baseball bat and a bottle of red spraypaint and smiles a devious smile. He picks it up and walks toward Marquez's house. All the lights were off on the first floor, but the loud bass of Bicycle by Vybz Kartel played in the attic and people moved around. Prod takes the baseball bat and smashes the window in to the living room. He looked up to the attic window to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, no one noticed. He took off his electric blue Foamposites and his Nike Elite socks and slid inside the house. He turned on the lights and analyzed the room. The room was white and coffee. He looked down and saw Marquez's Nike Griffeys laying there with his socks inside of them. He puts on some gloves and picks up the shoes and socks. He slides the shoes and socks on and walks around the room. He shakes up the spraypaint bottle and sprays the word, SHE'S, on the wall. He smashes the TV in with the bat and sprays the word, DEAD, on it. He sprays some paint on the bottom of the Griffeys and stomps around on the white carpet. He went downstairs to the basement, which was Marquez's room. He smiled to himself. He knocked down all his pictures, smashed his Macbook into pieces, poured bleach in Marquez's Proactiv, and dumped all of Marquez's clothes into his toilet) Gee, I gotta piss now. (shrugs and begins pissing on the jammed up clothes. He does the do and washes his hands. He grabs the bleach and dilutes the piss so no evidence is left. He goes upstairs into the living room. He makes his way to the kitchen and opens the fridge) Ahhhh...Sangria imported from Spain. Nice. (picks up the bottle and puts it outside next to his sneakers. He grabs the spraypaint and writes YOU'RE NEXT, BITCH on the island counter. He smiles with satisfaction and takes off Marquez's Griffeys. He leaves the socks on, so it wouldn't leave any evidence. He climbs back out the window and grabs his Foams, socks, baseball bat, spraypaint, and Sangria. He walks back home in the rain with a sinister smile planted on his face as a tear fell from his eye)(P.O.V.: The old Prod died with Natya. This one doesn't give a fuck about anyone or anything)