Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! or any Nickelodeon associates.
Author's Notes: School has been owning my life. But, thought it would be a good night to get some stress out in writing.
All eyes were turned on the boy and the classroom was completely silent for a moment, Mr. Simmons skin breaking out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, Harold's laughter burst out from the silence and everyone would glance.
"Hah, those aren't even real! Ooooh, I'm so scared! Look at the crazy man with the big guns!" He mocked, his voice childish and Curly slowly looking to him. A few students would begin to chuckle, but Arnold's eyes were locked on those weapons. Harold had to be out of his mind, from the few times he'd seen them in movies and a couple guns that his grandfather had hid very very very far away from his grandma, Arnold knew those were real. Tearing his eyes away from Curly for a moment, he glanced about. He could see who knew those were real, their pupils wide and shaking. Rhonda was trembling, her lips white pressed together so hard.
When Curly would begin to walk back towards Harold's desk, the laughter stopped and Mr. Simmons spoke.
"Curly, I-I know you're under a lot of stress, but vi-violence is not the way. Please, just put the gun down, okay? We can solve this without violence." He held up his hands, trying to will the boy down. Curly would stop, walking over to Mr. Simmons.
"Okay. But I want you to do something first." He spoke, his voice serene despite the chaotic and fearful energy around the room. The man's face broke into a relieved smile.
"What do you want, Curly? Anything, okay?"
"Kneel in front of me."
Mr. Simmons seemed completely oblivious, but watching this, Arnold could see that behind those glasses, Curly had no desire to surrender himself. He wanted to shout, to tell him, but he couldn't move. His hands were clutching his desk so tightly, he would not be surprised if there were fingerprints grooved into the wood now.
"Mr. Simmons, you can't do this." He finally was able to call out.
"Arnold. W-We need to let Curly express his feelings to us, in the best and safest way possible." He gave a weak smile and kneeled before Curly whose expression stayed as empty as before.
The teacher would close his eyes and one could see his life silently chanting a prayer. Curly's hand laid lazily on the pistol in his pocket before withdrawing it and placing the end of his teacher's forehead. The man's eyes would close tighter, and no sound came from any of them watching. The bare hint of a smile would grace Curly's lips before he would appear to pull the gun away. Feeling the metal away from his skin, Mr. Simmons' shoulders would relax, opening his eyes.
"I knew you'd see, Curly-"
Time would slow in the children's eyes. They would see the gun pointed down, the bullet enter through Mr. Simmons ribs, shattering them and tearing at his flesh, severing vital arteries before finally making its way through that needed muscle for life and out his back, leaving its mark in the desk behind him. They would see his eyes go wide, his pupils retract to bare dots before he slumped forward, twitching and giving gasps and sickening gurgles as the blood under him would soak into his button down shirt before creating a deep red blanket under his body. Amoung them all, they could see that his murderer, this child, would bear no remorse in his eyes, instead a confident smile.
Outside of their classrooms, the event would be interrupted as they felt the earth shake with one explosion, then another. Within seconds, they could see their schoolmates running frightened out of their rooms, unharmed. Next door would not give this. Instead, their stomachs would turn as they could hear screams and coughing, pleas for help to be let out, crying in fear and pain.
"We're all gonna die! Mommy!" Harold screamed, throwing himself from his chair and to the door, trying to unlock and pull at it. His scream brought about others as Arnold's eyes were glued to the pale body of their teacher, unmoving. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be. He thought of Grandma and Grandpa and all the other borders and his room, home. His eyes were filled with tears, trembling. Normally, this would have been where he'd think, "I have to do something. But seeing that, hearing that, the fact that people around him were dead and dying...What was he gonna do?
He would be brought out of his thoughts as a hand closed around his, looking up. While the rest of the students were screaming and panicking, Helga had not left her seat. Her hand closed tightly around his, and her eyes were just as tear filled as him. He nodded to her, squeezing back and she scoot the desk over to his, curling up against his chest as he held her, the two of them trembling in fear.
Watching all of this was Curly, now having stood on the desk and taking in the chaos. He could start to smell burning flesh from the two classrooms, both of them 6th grade classrooms. Firing another shot into the ceiling, everyone would go quiet.
"But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven." He said into the silence. "I've come to end yours and the world's suffering."
