Chapter 1

Life (And Everything It Has Ever Done to Me)

(Jacob and Suzy)

Friday, June 4th, 2010: Morning

People didn't like Jacob Ben-Israel.

Perhaps it was the over-sized glasses, or maybe it was the frizzled hair or the gap in between his two front teeth that emitted a soft whistling noise every time he spoke, but whatever it was, people just didn't like Jacob Ben-Israel.

They didn't even have the courtesy to remember his name.

Throughout elementary school, he was simply known as the boy who ate bugs during recess. In middle school, he was that freak that still came to class on Halloween dressed up like a Power Ranger, and by the time he'd reached high school, he was merely identified as being that creepy stalker kid whose only friend was his computer.

That was why on a picturesque morning in early June, Jacob Ben-Israel could be found sitting in the passenger's seat of his maroon colored 1992 Honda Accord, balancing a Sauer 38H pistol in one hand and a Tech-9 semiautomatic handgun in the other as he struggled to maneuver his pinkies to type his final message to the world alongside the sticky keys of his worn down keyboard.

And with year's worth of pain embedded into his mind, and a lifetime of revenge deep in his heart, Jacob Ben-Israel straightened his back and turned towards his left in order to address the one person that was ever able to remember his name…

"Are you ready?"

People didn't like Suzy Pepper.

Perhaps it was the over-sized glasses, or maybe it was the frizzled hair or the flat feet that forced her to walk down the hallways of William McKinley High School with a slight waddle and a hunch that eventually gave her scoliosis, but whatever it was, people just didn't like Suzy Pepper.

They didn't even have the courtesy to remember her name.

Throughout elementary school, she was simply known as the girl who peed in her pants during the second grade class picture. In middle school, she was that freak that still came to class listening to Maureen McGovern cassette tapes while all of the Junior Cheerios listened to the latest hit singles on their latest iPods, and by the time she'd reached high school, she was merely identified as being that creepy stalker kid whose only friend was her computer.

That was why on a picturesque morning in early June, Suzy Pepper could be found sitting in the driver's seat of her friend's maroon colored 1992 Honda Accord, balancing a 12 gauge Remington 1100 Tactical shotgun in one hand and its remaining ammunition in the other as she struggled to maneuver her pinkies to finish duct taping the last of the shrapnel onto her collection of pipe bombs.

And with year's worth of confusion embedded into her mind and a lifetime of uncertainty deep in her heart, Suzy Pepper straightened her back and turned towards her right in order to address the one person that was ever able to remember her name.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good," He breathed, and with an abrupt force, his hands gripped at the head of his pistol, shifting the slide backwards towards him, effectively loading the magazine into its clip with a click that echoed the finality of his intentions, emphasized only by the forceful pressing of a computer's enter key so that in an instant, every last one of Jacob Ben-Israel's countless websites, blogs, message boards and profiles lit up with his cryptic last rites:

Re-evaluate your heroes. This was never my fault.

"Then let's get this shit done."

A simultaneous intake of air diffused between two partners.

And with synchronized motions, two students stepped out from beneath the cover of their vehicle, and the veil cast before them by years of merciless torture, and approached their high school with a swift focus and rapt determination in their own effort to ensure that nobody would ever forget their names again.

Brian Saralli was born on June 4th, 1995 at 6:03 a.m.

His family had moved both him and his two younger brothers to Lima, Ohio the summer before he was slated to begin the seventh grade, where he had decided to join the local football team in an effort to make some more friends in a new town…

In the eighth grade, he'd become the top prospect of the upcoming William McKinley High School football team.

And by the time he'd entered his freshman year, he had been awarded the coveted position of starting quarterback on the Freshman Titan's Squad, bypassing his peers easily with all of the students, teachers, and parents alike loudly whispering about how he was destined to become the next Finn Hudson.

Yes, Brian Saralli was destined for greatness beginning at a young age, but for his fifteenth birthday, he only wanted one thing; to spend it with his girlfriend.

Leah Monahan was born on June 4th, 1995 at 6:03 p.m.

Her family had moved both her and her two younger sisters to Lima, Ohio the summer before she was slated to begin the seventh grade, where she had decided to join the local dance team in an effort to make some more friends in a new town…

In the eighth grade, she'd become the top prospect of the upcoming William McKinley High School Dance Troupe.

And by the time she'd entered her freshman year, she had been awarded the coveted position of lead dancer on the Freshman Cheerio's Squad, bypassing her peers easily with all of the students, teachers, and parents alike loudly whispering about how she was destined to become the next Quinn Fabray.

Yes, Leah Monahan was destined for greatness beginning at a young age, but for her fifteenth birthday, she only wanted one thing; to spend it with her boyfriend.

That was why on the morning of Friday, June 4th, 2010 William McKinley High School's most admired freshman couple could be found sneaking quietly from the main double doors of the west side entrance, hands enclosed, mischievous smiles imprinted permanently across both of their faces…

Minutes behind the official start of William McKinley's designated lunch break, a head start had been something that they had planned on all along; a conscious effort not to cross paths with anybody who could potentially deter their off-campus lunch date which, technically speaking was an unlawful action for underclassmen…

Pressing forwards, they had carried out their plan with an expectation not to run into a single soul.

Especially not Suzy Pepper and Jacob Ben-Israel…

Brian Saralli had lost count of just how many times him and his football buddies had tossed Jacob Ben-Israel into the school's back dumpsters, but if there was one thing that he knew for certain, it was that it never got old.

"Hey Israel buddy, how's it going?' He approached the brooding teenager with a confident gait and a mock sense of interest, oblivious towards the anger behind his peer's eyes as he wrapped his arm across the shoulders of his self-proclaimed punching bag, tugging him without hesitation towards the general direction of the back dumpsters.

"Brian come on, just leave the kid alone."

Leah Monahan had lost count of just how many times she'd watched her boyfriend and his football buddies toss Jacob Ben-Israel into the school's back dumpsters, but if there was one thing that she knew for certain, it was that it was starting to get old.

"Hang on babe. This will only take a second." He informed her with a sneer before he turned his attention back towards his much shorter, red-headed counterpart. "I heard that yesterday was tuna casserole day in the cafeteria Israel. If you find any in there make sure to save some for later… Tuna casserole is kosher, right?"

Jacob Ben-Israel had lost count of just how many times Brian Saralli and his football buddies had tossed him into the school's back dumpsters, but if there was one thing that he knew for certain, it was that it was never going to happen again.

They say that when a human being loses any one of their five crucial senses, the remaining four only get stronger, and in a way, Jacob Ben-Israel knew that this was true, because in a way, it had happened to him…

But Jacob had not parted with his flimsy sense of sight or sound, touch, taste or even smell, no… Instead, on the day that Jacob Ben-Israel had lost a different kind of sense – his sense of dignity – so many years ago now, it seemed, he realized that when all of his classmates would stare at him, or point in the halls, he could always catch it, from every direction; even with his less than acute 20/200 vision… When they would throw quick slurs towards him, like freak, and loser, and fag, and kike, he always heard it, even the quietest of whispers. When they would throw him inside of a school dumpster, shove him rudely inside of his own locker, or dip his plethora of red curls down the men's room toilet bowls and flush, he felt it every single time in the form of a sharp pain ringing deep within the center of his chest…

And every night, when he would retreat back home into the safety of his bedroom, embracing the sound-proofed privacy that the attic space offered to him, he sobbed desperately into his pillow so that he could hear every gut wrenching cry, taste every bitter tear drop, sharp on his tongue…

"You're awfully quiet today, Israel." Brian commented on the unusual passivity of his counterpart, the ease by which Jacob was complying with him by. "What's the matter, have you finally realized that trying to get away is completely…"

His sentence was halted abruptly; forever silenced, forever unfinished.

Along an empty football field at the edge of the campus boundaries, a flock of geese took flight in their natural response towards such a sudden explosion of noise.

Across the packed classrooms, groups of half-listening students and their equally half-teaching teachers briefly acknowledged an unusual break in the silence before simply dismissing it all together.

And within a small quad decorating the double doors of William McKinley High School's west side entrance, a young cheerleader fled, buckling only steps into her escape underneath the pressure of a single Remington 1100 Tactical Shotgun Shell as it lodged itself deep within the pit of her spine while meanwhile, right beside her, a mere boy with so many unfinished prospects and a shattered future took a bullet directly between two piercing blue eyes, crumpling motionless onto the ground below without so much as a stagger.

Dead before he'd even known what had hit him.