Durchlauf
(Run)
A figure of an orange-yellow persuasion trudged up the stairs of Degrassi Community High School, clutching a backpack to their chest. Their angry eyes gazed out of stained spectacles and their lip trembled in fury with each step. The suit this figure wore was splattered with cheese and decorated with feathers, and it dripped upon the ground in his wake. The figure entered the building, with any passerby staring in awe at his bizarre adornments.
The figure entered the doorway. Laughs filled his ears, and he flinched at the sound. He dreaded his wretched sound, this horrible sound! It only reminded him of every beating he received for what he did for Terri. The pain that I've put upon myself, he thought, has been enough to kill me as it is. He did not look any of his peers in the eye, but just kept both robotic pupils upon one target, who was standing at the end of the main hallway, fiddling with the combination of his locker, not paying any attention to the slow-walking figure. Once the figure reached him, he just breathed heavily in rage till his target looked at him.
"What do you want, Rick?" the boy with a half-shaved head asked sharply. He looked at the cheese-ridden figure as if they were some sort of contagious disease that the boy did not want to catch. He grimaced as the cheesy one reached inside his backpack.
"Goodbye, Spinner," Rick muttered. He pulled his hand out of the bag to reveal a sleek, shiney, silver pistol. It glistened maliciously in the sunlight, and seemed to cackle as Spinner was stricken with horror. He stumbled backwards in surprise of the gun, and tried to scramble away as Rick aimed it at him. For a moment, an insane grin flashed accross Rick's face and the trigger went back into the crook of the gun.
Suddenly, the laughter that once plagued his ears turned to horrified screams, as Spinner's bloody body fell to the floor, shot in the back.
Every face in Rick's eyes suddenly turned to a blank canvas, begging to be splashed with a violent crimson paint. The entire hallway became a blur of screaming, crying, sweating human drama. He relished in the power. In this, Rick was the masterful God. He dictated to whom he gave life, and from whom he took it. He would strike them down, like Zeus, with a mighty bolt of lightning, a mighty steel bullet.
More silver flashes dashed about in the air and found their targets. Running to find the faces that he recognized and hated, he would put more of his small, silver-colored minions to find their bodies and embed themselves into them. His determined features twisted in rage seemed to only fixate on one thing at a time.
His sense of hearing suddenly failed him, and everything was silent. Only a moment before, he could hear the terrified screams of student and teacher alike; the scuffle of so many shoes on linolium; Radditch booming on the intercom, ordering everyone to get into a classroom and go into a lock down; the screams of the sirens...Now everything was silent. Even when he pulled the trigger, he heard no sound. His fixation muted the sounds of everything around him. Numbness...had become his best friend.
The head of a stickly blonde girl came into view. He knew that this slab of meat had to be slaughtered. Of everyone, he knew that she had to kneel, beg, and bleed. Her panicked face instilled great satisfaction in him. To Rick, this bitch was getting what she deserved. She was taking what she had given him. Rick felt dead inside. He blamed her.
"Hello, Emma," Rick said cheerfully, giving her a warm smile. Emma's horrified face looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. She fell on the floor and tried to get to the nearest classroom, but she found it impossible. As Rick's faux-cheery smile faded, he pulled the trigger again and ran. Emma fell completely flat on the floor, shoulder throbbing and eyes gazing out to see her own blood on the floor. Everything suddenly went black for her.
The halls were entirely devoid of screaming. Rick could hear nothing in the air but the squeaking of police boots and the shrieks of ambulance sirens. He leaned against the stall of the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He still had cheese on his face. He shook his head and heaved a great sigh, placing the gun in his pocket. Rick approached the sink and turned on the water, took off his glasses, and splashed it on his face. He felt so disguesting for what he was. He knew what he did was wrong, but that wasn't why he was so angry at himself. He was angry because he confirmed yet again what they believed he was: a violent person.
His fist hit the mirror, and Rick's knuckles bled generously. He wanted to smash the face of the violent monster that had slapped Terri...that was the beginning of it all. His first and last girlfriend...abused! She was the only one he really cared about, and he had put her into a coma. Rick as furious with himself once more.
Rick took the handle from out of his pocket. He paced back and forth quickly in the bathroom, thinking about what to do whilst police officers ordered that he come out of the now locked bathroom. Rick reverted to his original plan. Holding the gun at arm length and parallel to his head, he turned the barrel toward himself and snapped his eyes shut, bracing himself.
"I'm staring down the barrel of a .45" 45 by Shinedown
Bang.
Author's notes: Arrrrrr. I'm a fucking pirate with two eyepatches and two peg legs. Stay tuned some more. You know you want to.