Roxas sat in his second hour class, wondering how he could kill all of his classmates. He believed that they deserved to die. Sora had his memories, Kairi and Riku were Sora's friends, Hayner and Pence and Olette weren't important enough to live, neither were Demyx or Axel or Naminé or the teacher or anyone in the entire world for that matter.
Only him. Roxas was the only important one.
Roxas would kill Sora with his - their - own Keyblade, watching the weapon and walls and his face and Sora' skin get sprayed with a pretty dark crimson. He would rip off his fingers for holding his Keyblade. He would tear out his eyes for stealing them. He would smash his brain on the ground until it was a squishy, pink mess on the floor; he hoped that would teach Sora not to steal his memories.
Roxas would kill Kairi and Riku the same way. Smash them for being Sora's friends, squish them for being Sora's friends, chop them up with the sharpest knife in existence for being Sora's friends. They'd all be painted red but Roxas would be alive so he'd keep hitting and splashing himself with blood as if it were raining from the sky.
Roxas would kill Hayner, Pence, and Olette with a bat because it's lightweight and easy to swing. He would rip off their lips for smiling fake smiles for him. He would grip and tear and break their tracheas for speaking lies and laughing fake laughs for him. He would smash, smash, smash until their bones were pasty and their skin was peeling and their organs were liquefied. He would cut off their hands for patting his back and rustling his hair in a patronizing way.
Roxas would kill Naminé for knowing and helping Sora steal his memories. He would crush her fingers so she could draw and rot in hell. He would crush her brain, like Sora and Kairi and Riku for having his memories in the first place and giving them to Sora. He would smash and crunch her bones into a fine dust.
Roxas would kill everyone differently, only in the same way if they all did the same things. But before he could think of any more creative ways to smash and kill and spill blood and soak it into his skin, the bell rang, and he dashed out of his psychology class.