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Two ear-crackling sounds echo through the cafeteria, but they got little response, except for those who saw the source of the power, a cold steel barrel of a gun. Those close stood in shock, including both campus cops, but as usual, the cafeteria bustles with movement and chattering. No one responded to the noise, thinking it just another silly fish, popping firecrackers again.
The sound of a second body crashing to the ground silences the mass. Fear swells in every heart, and then burst out in screams, tears, flight, and anger. Some ran from the gunmen and a few tough guys, who thought themselves true hardcore thugs, though they had never left the suburbs, ran to the gun.
Three down, more to go, fire burns in Amy’s eyes, she is on a rampage that no one expected. Though quiet, she was popular, walked amongst the highly respected, now she came after them all with a gun, but surprise, surprise she wasn’t the only one, holding a gun.
Vic, Craig, and Tory, guarded all possible exits, but only a small percentage of the crowd that once gleefully enjoyed their lunches remained, about twenty or so scared faces. She looks into each of their eyes, flashes the barrel of the gun at some of them, and ignoring the others.
Tears flooded the cafeteria, but Amy is focused, she chanted the plan they had worked on for weeks in her sleep until she could recite it backwards in Spanish.
“GET UP!!” she screams loudly then sends another bullet through the thick stillness that surrounds them all.
They shiver in fear and Vic laughs, very sinister-like, tugging at them. Tory looks in awe, thinking that he may be enjoying this whole thing too much, but she let him run wild as they herded their victims into the library. Craig felt confined though the library is a wide-open space; he knew it well, every shelf, towering over their heads, the reception desk, the aids that worked it, and the chess table that any other day he would be sitting at in deep thought. He hyperventilates when the librarian looks at him in terror.
This isn’t like him, he has always been nonconfrontational, he worries about his asthma and if he would be able to carry his own weight, like the others busily doing their assigned duties. Vic wipes the sweat off his forehead, his hair, treading down his back is wet with the sweat of anticipation. He paces ready for the whole thing to be over. Vic had never been a violent person, but today he showed up with a gun hiding in his bag.
With his long hair, and all black attire he was the one individual most expected to shoot up the school, but this wasn’t his work. Vic watched along with everyone else as Amy pointed the gun at the yet another student.
Amy looked right in his eyes. The two of them knew each other well. It had been only a few months ago when she lay crying under his naked body. Today she shoots him dead.
Vic’s stomach squirms uneasily. He wasn’t exactly willing to go along with the plan when Amy first proposed it, but couldn’t refuse.
“They should feel the pain we feel every day.” he remembered her saying.
He responded with a tight hug, “I know baby, but…”
“But what, Vic? Let’s do it.”
His sunshine had turned into some sick and twisted darkness. This is why he didn’t want to go through with it because her pain and anguish would be right on the surface of her skin, which is usually plated with a stunning bronze. He wonders what this monster is that rages before them.
“I will ask each of you one time only why you deserve to live?” Amy rages, “DON’T you dare tell me that you read to under privileged kids tell me of your pain.”
This is when things would get ugly Craig knew and he didn’t know if he could handle it. Tory fought back tears as Amy stood over her shoulder.
“Why do you deserve to live?” she asks a burly football player, who was loved by everyone.
“My mom died when I was only seven and…uh…it was hard, you know, growing up with out her.”
“Why?” Amy says.
Tory prays that his answer will satisfy her, but it comes a tad bit short. She puts a bullet through his shoulder, which wouldn’t be bad if he weren’t the starting varsity quarterback, Amy knew that to him that was death.
Amy moves to the next girl, a cheerleader always smiling, “Why do you deserve to live?” Amy asks and twiddles with loads the gun, “It better be painful?”
“You think you know the meaning of pain.” she laughs, looking half crazed she lets up her sleeves and shows them the still bleeding cuts along her wrist. “I’m angry at everyone because they don’t know pain, don’t recognize it. I show up every day with puffy eyes from the crying I do every morning after my father climbs out of my bed.”
Vic saw this eerie calmness in Amy’s eyes. She was shocked, scared, angry, just as the rest of them. She lifted the gun steadily and put it to the most unworthy person in the room, herself.