A loud, booming gunshot rang through the hotel.
Police and news anchors were on the scene right away, and the hotel had to be evacuated.
People were freaking out. Nothing on this level had ever happened here in Point Place before. Shootings only happened on TV, in movies - this was too unreal.
The police searched the hotel high and low for the shooter or shooters, and anyone they had shot.
But they didn't need to look for multiple people. This boy had only done this to himself. He didn't want to put anybody else through pain. He didn't want anyone dead, not even his friend that was dating his dream girl. Not even his dream girl that didn't return the oh-so-strong feelings he harbored for her. He had wanted her since the 3rd grade. He would've done anything to make her see how much he cared, including take his own life.
And that was just what he had done.
He was finally found in the restaurant kitchen, laying dead on the floor with a gun. He clearly worked here, since keys for the building were hanging out of his back pocket. He was wearing sunglasses and a t-shirt with a Chevy Camaro on it. It appeared he had shot himself right in the head. The police looked at each other and shook their heads. He was young; he didn't look anything over 18 or 19, and he had committed suicide. "Why would he do this?" asked one of the cops.
Another shrugged and shook his head once again, until he saw a note under the boy's curly head.
"Maybe this will shine a light on it." he said.
The officer read the note aloud.
Donna,
I carved your name in the bullet so everyone would know...
You were the last thing running through my head.
Have a nice little life with Eric.
-Hyde.
