I was not always like this. I was nice, smiled often, in my mind I was cool. I had very little friends, but that was enough for me. I guess you can say I was happy with my life at that point. Then high school came into my life. It became the hardest obstacle to understand. All of the bullies, the cheerleaders and jocks, the goths, the nerds, the band geeks, and all the outcasts.
I tried to deal with that life, it was difficult. The bruises I had to hide every night from my mom, the sorrow from the name-calling. I jus could not take it. After that last bit of abuse, I knew I was going to explode. And all it took was for me to steal my father’s gun, and shoot that kid. But I needed skill, all I had to was to get him in a place where I had him all alone. That was all I needed, and then his head was mine. Then all his torment against me would just float away. And even though I thought it would be pretty hard, it was mostly easy, all I had to do was go to basketball practice, and then follow him home in the dark, and shoot him in the chest. It might seem hard, or heartless, or a terrible thing to do. But in my head, it was different; I could not forgive him for what he did to me everyday, the way he pushed me around. It had to be done, and I knew I was the only person to do it. And a few days later when the found him -I tried to hide his body very well- there was a little bit of devastation. Mostly all the basketball fans and players were confused and saddened for a few days. Then it started again, the bullying, the torment. It happened to a lot of others I noticed and it disgusted me. When I heard one of my own friends committed suicide from being bullied I knew it was the last straw. Every time I witnessed someone falling physically or mentally bullying someone or me they met my bullets. Now that wasn’t that easy. It was hard getting bullets every now and then. Also it was hard to get them alone, one girl almost saw my face, but thankfully I killed her in enough time, so it wouldn’t matter anyways. But I still had to stay on my toes and keep my identity to myself so then I bought me a ski mask and gloves.
After a while, I had a score of eight bullies taken down, and the police were getting closer and closer, but they would not find out it was I. I used to watch many detective shows with my father before he passed, so I knew how to face the challenges, and not get caught. Also, I guess you can say I was going completely insane, because anyone who talked to me was going to be a victim of my “insanity”. I then started killing a lot of people, just because they said something wrong to me or even looked a me wrong. My mother and teachers thought I was acting very strangely, but I just came up with the usual lie saying I was tired or something. And I always go away with it.

Now 2 months of my first murder and I’ve killed a total of 15 people. A new record and I was proud of it. I felt like I had actually made a difference in the world, but they said I was a murderer. Stupid police officers. They said I was wrong. They were bullies too. Throwing the wrong people in jail. Like when I was watching tv with my dad one day. And a man who killed his daughters killer was sent to jail for the rest of his life. That was wrong. He only avenged his daughters death, how was that bad? But anyways I knew cops were technically the bad guy, and even though couldn’t kill every cop in the world right away, I could start off with my cities task force. Very challenging but it could…it had to be accomplished.
So I spent 5 weeks watching, studying a few officers, their weaknesses, their strengths, and their flaws. After that 5 weeks I discovered that my next victim, Officer Henry Radisson, was a very decorated member of the task force. He had 3 children, 2 boys and a little girl, also a wife who was disabled, who he went to the pharmacy for everyday around 8 when he got off work. Usually the pharmacy’s parking lot would be empty. And I had the perfect plan. One that me and that officer would be alone and all I had to do was shoot him a few times, easy as that. But I had to precautions. He would also have fire arm. My perfect plan had to happen so smoothly. And as I stood there with “my broken car” and seemed helpless. And it worked just as recorded, he pulled over to ask me what was wrong and I quickly replied with my lie. He believed it and checked under the hubcap, my next move would be easy. Just grab the gun from under the seat, get out the car and then shoot him. I moved as fast as I could but it wasn’t fast enough. He was coming back around when I finally pulled the gun out. He reached for his gun too but I moved a little faster, once my aim was right I would shoot him in the head, and after a while, I knew it would be all over. But it wasn’t, he had had his gun pointed at me too and shot me once in my arm, but I had shot him in the head before he could do anymore damage. When I noticed he was dead and it was over my injured arm began to takeover my mind. I was in pain, he had shot me in my left arm right above the elbow, and it hurt badly.
I quickly got in my car and drove off leaving the dead body at the crime scene. When I got home I knew my mom would be sleep, she has been taking sleep pills every since my father died, so she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Inside I hurried to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit, and patched it up. I was satisfied with the results then retreated to my for a satisfying rest.
That next day I woke up to a loud banging noise on the front door. I jumped out of the bed and looked out the window. Cop cars surrounded my front yard and I stared out at them wide-eyed. Thoughts slurred my head, No, no it just couldn’t be, how could I be caught? I thought hard, What did I do wrong? But nothing seemed to come up. My mom was down there letting all the officers up there and into my room, she was screaming at them also. My heart was beating out of my chest. No they couldn’t have me. I moved quickly and searched for my dad’s gun and right when I found it, three cops were in my room yelling at me to drop the gun. I grasped the gun in my hand then pointed it at my head. They continued yelling and trying to reason and I heard my mom in the background crying. But I zoned it all out. I was doing a good thing, defeating the bullies and making the world a better place. I smiled and laughed at my accomplishment, confusing the cops. I waved one last good bye and shot one sliver bullet into my skull. And the last thing I could hear was my mother’s last cry out to her son.