MEDICINE | H.S.

{Prologue}

. . . . .

His dark hair danced with the sunlight glimmering through the halls, each step he took bouncing the curls atop his head, a gun in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

The school choir intoned the National Anthem, oblivious to the terror that would soon occur. The intercom scratched with the pitch of the students, the static piercing across the scattered classrooms.

Oh, say can you see,

He aimed at the face of a seemingly innocent life. The kids nearby found no need to help, but to flee. The boy was a junior, shaking as he shrunk into his varsity jacket...the muzzle of the gun pressed against his forehead, his tears silent.

By the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed,

The blood seeping the lockers spatted his dark hair, but it continued to dance with the light pouring in. The corridors were hushed, but he knew better than to stop there.

At the twilight's last gleaming?

The janitor's closet was almost inaudible with the chorus pervading his ears...but almost is never enough. Behind the shambles of brooms and mops was the unmistakable sound of steady breathing, soon becoming a jumble of pants and wheezes.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars,

Through the perilous fight,

His gun was raised, this time at the heart of a man who otherwise would have to clean up his mess, holding a crucifix to his lips. He prayed silently, each tear more garish than the last.

O'er the ramparts we watched,

Were so gallantly streaming.

A sophomore walked the halls, late for his class as his mother dropped him off behindhand. This student was different from the rest; he walked with a cane, for he could not see with either eye. He stepped into a small puddle, kneeling to touch what felt to be warm.

Warm, smooth, and wet.

Footsteps could be perceived in front of him before he felt something cold and hard thrust into his temple.

And the rocket's red glare,

The bombs bursting in air,

He strolled to the library, where he knew he'd find her. The girl who caused all of this. The one he knew deserved it.

Gave proof through the night,

The doors were seemingly locked, but he had a plan. He was ready for this. The key in his pocket glistened like the blood that matted his hair, daubing his cheeks and forehead.

That our flag was still there.

The heavy door was finally ajar, revealing no one he needed, but wasted no time to snipe. The new book aroma that once permeated the comprehensive room was now replaced with the stench of blood, coating the textbooks and novels on the glossy shelves.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,

He found her in the last row, her knees drawn to her chest with her head down, shaking. His treads were laden and loud against the hardwood floor, stopping in front of her to aim.

His hands began to shake, but he couldn't back down now. Her hazel eyes met his green ones. Shiny tears ran down her cheeks. For a second, he couldn't, but it was only for a second.

He pulled the trigger.

For the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

. . . . .

First written part published and a very intense one at that!  Hope you all were intrigued.