Twenty-eight days.
Twenty-eight days until it's over. The pain, the loneliness, the beatings, the name-calling. It will all be gone.
The memories can't haunt me anymore. The kids can't taunt me anymore. The teachers will be sorry.
Everything will disappear.
Screams will ring through the air, they will beg and bargain for their lives. It won't matter, it will all end the same.
My battered skin crawls in excitement for the moment it all happens. The smooth trigger under my finger, the explosive sounds of bullets tearing through skin. Their sobs will be music to my ears.
I won't feel any remorse. They aren't innocent. No one is. They deserve to be punished, sent to hell where they belong, where their pleas will fall on deaf ears, where their suffering will know no end.
A bubble of laughter escapes my throat. I'm giddy, trembling with adrenaline. The clock ticks by too slowly.
Their blank eyes staring up at me, their lips parted in a soundless scream. A pool of blood staining their fancy clothes, shining along the tiles. Crimson will stain my fingers, my clothes, my face. I can almost taste it.
Then, of course, I will join them.
YOU ARE READING
Twenty-Eight Days
Teen FictionTrinity Parker is sick and tired of life. He is beaten and abused daily by his classmates, ignored by his teachers, and sleeps alone in a decrepit house. Nobody cares about whether he lives or dies. He has nothing to live for. Senior year will end w...
