Louisville, Kentucky

He hadn't expected the day to turn to hell.

None of them did. He knew that if he could have seen it coming, he wouldn't have came to school today. That if he knew what were to occur as he sat in his desk and scratched carbon onto paper, he would have made some excuse on why he couldn't come in today. He would have called his friends and begged them not to go, and force them to tell everyone that they knew. He would have logged onto his computer and posted the warning, and would have wanted it to be spread like a fucking plague.

But none of that happened, and now they were trapped inside the school like lambs awaiting their slaughter by the wolves as they helplessly waited in the dark for their shepard to come and rescue them.

Looking at his class, he knew that it was too late for some of them.

Taking another look at one of the poor souls, a tall blond girl that had the upper left quadrant of her head blown off as blood, bone, and brain painted the desk behind her. Her friends by her side, crying in hysteria and what they had witnessed, despite the teacher's pleas for them to be quiet as to not draw attention to the class. Too late for that though, they had seen them, and even with the lights off and the blinds closed, they knew where they were.

Honestly, he wasn't really surprised that the group of girls weren't listening to instructions, because it was taking his everything to not cry himself. And though he was shaking, he was frozen nearly everywhere else.

Thinking back of how the whole thing had started, he knew that they should have acted sooner, and not have been so stupid. They shouldn't have let curiosity get the better of them. When the first gunshot had rang out, they shouldn't have wondered if someone had been setting off firecrackers within school grounds again. They shouldn't have waited for more gunshots to go and check the windows to see if someone really was setting off firecrackers.

If they hadn't checked, many of them wouldn't have been harmed by the storm of bullets that had been aimed at them. The bullets wouldn't have shattered the glass and sliced up hands and faces. But most of all, Haley Peters wouldn't have been shot in the head in front of everyone, only adding to the chaos that was a school shooting.

School shooting... The words continued to ring through his head as more and more gunshot echoed through the halls, accompanied by the screams of his peers and the shouts of the gunmen.

He didn't know how many there were, but from the bits of phone conversations that he heard from his classmates, he knew that there were at least five of them. One guarding each of the sides of the school, and at least one was inside the school massacring everyone. He guessed that there were more than just one person inside though.

They were scared, he didn't need to hear the sobs and the cursing, nor did he have to smell the acrid smell of piss to know that everyone was fearful for their lives. And as the gunmen continued their rampage, each gunshot getting closer and closer to him, he grew more and more terrified of what was to come.

He... Didn't want to die, but there was nothing that could be done. They couldn't go out into the halls and try to escape, unless they wanted to chance running into a hail of bullets. And they couldn't escape through the windows, unless they wanted to die like Haley did.

"It's fight or die," the voice of Chad Douglas, a member of the varsity team, spoke in a hushed tone. "They aren't going to let us escape alive, so we have to bring the fight to them."

"And how the hell are we supposed to that?" Another varsity member asked. "They've got guns and we're got, what? Pens and rulers?"

"We've got the element of surprise," Chad pointed out. "The lights are off and the shades are now down, so whoever is outside won't know what we're up to. Plus, with the desks blocking the door, we've got time before they barge in, and when they do, we grab the nearest fucker and take his gun and defend ourselves. We rush them and beat them into the ground before they even have a chance to fight back."

"That's god damn suicide, man. Unarmed students against guns. Out of your god damn mind."

"Well it's either that or have everyone else in this building get slaughtered. They're going room to room unchallenged, and it'll remain that way unless some of us grow some balls and stop them. Yes, it'll be suicide for some of us, but with enough of us fighting, they can't stop all of us. If we don't fight, we're dead anyway."

"He's right," Mr. Kelly, the teacher just getting into his thirties, stated. "We're all going to die if we do nothing, so we might as well do something. The police are on their way, but we can't count on them getting here on time. So we have to fight to survive, and for that, we need people who are going to help us battle these guys."

Chad volunteered immediately, his friend followed soon after. Some more of his classmates reluctantly volunteered to try and stop the school shooters as well. And while hope was slim at best, they were willing to fight.

The eight students and single teacher armed themselves with whatever improvised weapons they could get such as scissors and pens, ready to stab the maniacs. Chad himself picked up a chair to use as a bludgeoning.

Even, looking at the display of courage wanted to join them as well, but he was too scared to even move. All the same, he wished them luck since his life was also on the line.

Then the door knob started to jiggle, and everyone calm to a complete silence. Even Haley's friends had gone and stopped making sobbing noises as the person outside forced open the door, creating low pitched squealing due to the weight of the desks scrapping against the floor.

The makeshift student guard was waiting for the door to open and for a shooter to try and get into the classroom. They were ready to attack at a moment's notice.

What they didn't expect to see was a grenade being thrown through the barely opened door. Even could only hear gasping before it blew. The explosion rocked the entire classroom as everyone gave out a new wave of screams of fright and agony. Even swore that he saw a bloody, severed leg land in front of him. He didn't scream though, he was much too scared for that.

Then the door burst open, allowing five armed and masked hostiles to enter the classroom unchallenged as they opened fire on everyone inside. Screams were silenced as lead passed through flesh. Even could hear that they were at least semi-automatic, and he thought he heard the blast of a shotgun as well. Though with his ears ringing, he couldn't be certain.

"Team leader," a radio crackled from one of the shooter's chests. "Come in team leader."

"Team leader here." A male answered as single shots were shot at the students that had survived the forced entrance.

"There's cops are here, and they've got a fucking S.W.A.T team with them. They've taken out Johnny and Walter."

"Take out as many of those fucks as possible," their leader ordered. "Detonate your vests if they try to arrest you or if you're almost dead!" The man with the radio rounded the desk that Even was hiding behind, the desk that had somehow made all the bullets pass around him and not through him.

Even could only stare at the man who wore an explosive vest over his street clothes. His face concealed by his black ski mask, but Even could see that they eyes had meet each other's. His scared eyes meeting one filled with malice. "We'll clean up whatever we can inside."

And with that, everything from Even's upper jaw and up was torn to a bloody pulp by a load of buckshot.

The massacre of Greenfield High became a dark turning point for the country as nearly one hundred and thirty students and eight teachers were killed during the attack in addition to sixteen injured students and five dead police officers.

Seven seniors, one junior, and one freshman, lead by twins Jacob and Spencer Thomson, stormed their school with illegally obtained military and civilian grade weapons along with homemade explosive vests that failed to detonate with the intent to murder as many of their fellow students as possible.

Obtained evidence from the school shooters showed that they had planned the assault for weeks. Their reasoning being that they were victims of continuous harassment that the school system failed to acknowledge and take action towards.

When news of their reasonings were revealed, sympathetic teens, both of drop outs and attending students, from around the country created havoc. Many more were killed and even more were injured as several small businesses were shut down due to the property destruction. It is estimated that little more than half the participants weren't doing it for any kind of cause and did it purely for fun.

Since then, Juvenile crime rates, poverty, and unemployment have soared while graduation rates and police budgets have been cut due to the country's economic failure.

For years, the United States government have tried to quell the economic failure with little results.

In a desperate attempt to get the nation back to it's status as an economic super, the United States government approved the Youth Reconstruction Act, in which it'll be in effect until youth crime rates lower and the economy stabilizes once again.