It Only Takes One

As I'm sitting here in class, Jeri knocks everything off my desk. My jaw clenches and I watch Jeri walk away, not giving a care in the world. He likes to mess with me. And that, alone, makes my skin crawl with resentment.

Jeri finds it humorous—messing with me, thinking that we're friends.

We're not.

I'm thumbing at the pages in my book. I play with the paper because I can't read. I can't read because I can't focus. I need this room to be silent.

Silence.

Is that too much to ask for? Apparently it is because Alexis and Tim are arguing again and will probably have their third infamous breakup, causing her to start some rumor that bashes Tim and may possibly ruin his reputation. I'm quite surprised that she continues to come up with new ideas. But I'm more shocked by the fact that people still believe her.

George is eating his boogers again, even though he's seventeen years old. But, he still doesn't have his driver's license, let alone his permit, so I guess that proves his maturity level well enough. I glance at him again and he shoves his fingers up his nostrils and sucks on his snot-infested hands.

I look back down at my book and try to regain some sort of focus, but it doesn't work.

I sigh.

People are so ignorant and they don't even think about the effects they have on others. They like to mess with your mind when given the chance. That's why you don't give them a second to breathe and you just do what you've been meaning to accomplish since the moment you've been faking your manners with them.

I gather my thoughts and instead of trying to read, I attempt to map out a plan in my head.

This can't fail.

It won't fail. I'm sure of it.

I've typed out probably every scenario that could happen and they all end up with the same ending, my ending.

I've worked hard to ensure that every variable in my final experiment is affected and eventually destroyed. They all have to be obliterated. If not, it won't matter. I won't be here to be affected, just like they won't be, either: everybody must die.

My motive? I'm tired of everything.

Why am I taking myself out, as well? If I live they'll arrest me. I'll be thrown in federal prison.

But why do I have to take out everyone else with me? It's not like they'll get anywhere far in life. I'm not far. If I can't, then the people I hate can't, either.

Am I insane? Probably.

Do I care? No.

Everything is set up just how I need it to be: people are in their seats and I'm ready.

I just need this to be executed correctly; perfectly.

However, I do believe that people deserve a last glance of life. They need closure. If I'm taking their life, they should receive the last words that their ears will hear and see the last person their eyes will view.

I bite my lip and close my eyes, preparing myself.

I pray.

I stand up, without anybody noticing, and lock the door.

I walk to the front of the classroom. People gaze at me and I stare back at them.

They receive the last words that will ever slip from my mouth, the same words that I repeat to my students everyday, "Class dismissed." A grin creeps across my face, and I prepare to put an end to my problems.