Crossing the Line
Author's note: In no way, shape, or form do I condone the actions taken in this story. Despite the relations to reality, this is still a work of fiction. The characters have a basis in real life, but thankfully, the actions are not associated with them. I wrote this as a means to explore and hopefully dismiss the darkness hovering over my own past.
During my time in junior high school, which was a couple of years after Columbine, I had thought dozens of times that I should also take matters into my own hands. Looking back, I can honestly say that there were more than a couple of times that if I had access to a gun, the events of this story would have taken place. That thought, more than any other part of myself, fills me with dread. I wrote this as a kind of penance, that if I wrote this and others were spared the horror of being singled out in a class, and the shame of thinking of doing these horrible acts, then I wouldn't be such a miserable person.
And even though this is technically a 'clean' story, I feel that minors should take caution. This is not intended for the immature, no matter the age. If you feel that a story showcasing the shadowy part of the human psyche in the main character is by definition wrong, then don't read this. Go find a happy story to read. If you feel you can take a look in the madness that can manifest in anyone, then read on.
The time has come. Time to end the misery I have been feeling all these years. Time to take action. Time to make them pay.
If anyone were to look into my actions over the last few months they would be able to know what was coming. When this is over they will know that I had planned this out, and no one will mistake why I am doing this. The note I wrote will make sure of that.
I check my bag again, the 9mm pistol I bought at the pawn shop is in there, along with the two spare clips. Thirty seven loaded rounds, with close to seventy more in the box at the bottom of the bag. The tormentors called my classmates will know justice today.
I make sure to lock my bike outside the school. I can't give away any signs about today, so I act as normal as I can. Fortunately, my normal actions in the morning is head straight for my first period class. I only have five friends in the school, and only two of them are in my class. I am not in any clubs or activities, so I have no reason to waste time in the hallways or student lounge.
I sit in my usual desk: second row, third from the left. I set out my notebook, textbook, and pencil. I make one final check around the room. There is one door at the front of the class, behind the teacher's desk. Three walls of cinder blocks and one wall of windows to my left. The second floor room is fairly secure. It is even on the corner of the floor, so I only have the one adjacent room to worry about, and that is a janitor's closet.
As usual, I am 15 minutes early, and most of the class waits until a few minutes before eight to get to their desks. Not only is it the first class of the morning, but it is also world history. I don't think there was anyone looking forward to the class, except for me. My friends sit next to me, but look like they are too tired to talk, and it is about half a minute before class. Not even they can tell anything is different about me today.
As the bell signaling the start of class sounds and the teacher walks into the room, I wonder how the news will report what will happen. It's odd, because in a way it was the news that gave me this idea in the first place. If they hadn't put so much media towards the school shootings across the nation, I wouldn't have even thought of this, let alone even considered trying it. It even gave me a good excuse to research the school's policy on an armed intruder. I know how the faculty and authorities will respond to my actions. I would guess that I have about ten minutes from when the police are notified until they will arrive, which gives me about 13 minutes to finish things.
As the teacher takes roll call, I raise a paw. "Yes, Thomas?" the Vixen calls to me, "Can it wait until I take attendance?"
"No, Mrs. Henderson. I have an announcement that the principal asked me to give in person before attendance." I know it is a long shot, but I figure it's my best chance to get in front of the class and in a position to lock the door before anyone tries to leave.
"Okay, if you must." Mrs. Henderson moves to her desk as I move to the front of the class, carrying my backpack with me. I know everyone who would be paying attention, about half of the class, had their eyes on me. I doubt anyone would guess what I was about to do. I reach the chalkboards at the front of the class and turn around. I turn around and see the eighth grade history class, and a single thought runs through my head.
They are all guilty.
Instead of saying anything, I reach into my backpack and pull out the gun. I level it at the cat in the front row who had picked on me for eight years. I hear the screams as my classmates realize what I am doing. "Stay in your desks!" I yell, loud enough to be heard above the screams, and silencing them. "Mrs. Henderson, would you please move away from your desk. As for the rest of you, line up next to the windows. Guys to the left," I wave the gun to make sure they understand, "And girls to the right. And I would hurry, I'm grumpy before ten in the morning."
Some of the furs run while others are dragged along to the wall. Two of them don't move, though, and it causes the rest to wonder. Brent and Garrett, my two friends, are standing at their desks. Brent speaks first, "Tom, dude, what are you doing?" Garrett starts to move towards me.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Don't you remember the school shootings last year?" As Garrett gets to the front row of desks, I fire a round at the desk he is standing next to. The noise deafens me for a few seconds. So this is what it's like to fire a gun. When my hearing comes back, I hear the screams of my classmates. "QUIET! And you, Garrett, I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let you stop me, stop my vengeance." The ferret hasn't moved from next to the desk, confusion on his face.
Garrett raises his hands, and says, "Whoah, Tom, you don't want to do this."
" DON"T you tell me what I want to do! I have waited years for someone to help me. I tried staying out of their way, I tried not reacting to their taunts, I even tried fighting back! But nothing has stopped them, so now I must stop them, the only way I know how. If you or anyone else gets in my way, there will be no more warnings." I reach down and grab the spare clips from my backpack and put them in my pockets. "Now, if you and Brent would be smart enough to join the rest of the class by the windows." I wait for Bret and Garrett to stand with the rest of the class. "Now, Mrs Henderson, go and pull the fire alarm. I would hate to have to shoot random students in the school. There children as young as 10 here, and I don't want to kill innocent children."
"Please," The vixen begs, tears running down her cheeks, "Don't do this. We can get you help."
"SHUT UP!" I yell as I fire again, this time into Mrs. Henderson's desk. "It's too late for your help. Just go and get everyone else out of the building. That is the best you can do now." I am almost surprised to see her move to the door, and a few seconds later the fire alarm sounds throughout the building. I lock the door shut after she leaves. "Now for the rest of you. Until the authorities show up, which should be in about 10 to 13 minutes, my word is law. Disobey the law, and you will be punished. The only punishment I give out is bullets. Some of you will die," some of the more hysterical girls faint, "but for the rest of you, if you follow the law, and don't get in my way, you have nothing to fear from me."
I move to the first name on my list of vengeance, Jake. Like most of the class, we had been in the same class for years. I can't remember a year when the otter didn't pick on me. He is just one of the furs that led me to depression and suicidal thoughts, but he is the most persistent. I point the gun at his head while he says, "Like you could shoot someone, your threats don't scare me."
"Interesting choice for your last words." I pull the trigger, the bullet tears through his skull and brain tissue before going through the window. Odd, I don't feel anything. I'm not happy, though I wasn't really expecting it, but I was expecting some sense of fulfillment, or justice. The screams from the rest of the class rise up again as Jake's body slumps to the ground. No one moves, they are too scared to try anything.
I move on to my next target, Billy. He was standing next to Jake. As I point the gun at him, his eyes grow wide with terror. "Please, man," the poor excuse for a cat begs, "Don't do this. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Too late for apologies." Another pull of the trigger, another splatter of red on the window, another body on floor. This time, there are no screams, just the sobs of my classmates. I look to see who's crying, and I notice that no one on my list are crying. They are all looking at me, a mixture of rage and fear on their faces. I know that all of them are in the 'cool' crowd. There is one exception, Martin, the next on my list. He looks calm.
Intrigued, I move up to Martin, and put the gun in his face. He doesn't change his expression or say anything. "You're on my list too, Martin. That means I'm here to kill you."
"I figured as much. Jake and Billy didn't deserve to die, neither does anyone else in the room, even you Thomas. I would try to convince you to stop, but I can tell you won't. I feel sorry for you, resorting to such extreme measures." Not a single tear, and no sign of aggression, just calm acceptance of his surroundings on his reptilian face. "If you wish to kill me, now would be a good time." He closes his eyes.
He never gets a chance to open them, as I take his advice. After the sound of the gunshot, I can hear sirens in the distance. There must have been cops in the area, if they are so close so soon. I was planning on doling out more justice to the lower ranks of the bullies, but I guess I'll just have to move on to the big shots now.
The three furs at the center of it all: Justin, Mai, and Lawrence. If anything else, I have to make sure they pay. They are in the center of it all, the ones who singled me out and made my life a living hell. I couldn't have a single day of peace at school without being taunted, pranked, or beaten. If they hadn't been there, I could have had a chance. Now, thanks to the torment they made me live through, they don't have a chance.
Justin, the skunk, is the closest, so he is the first. I walk over the dead bodies on the floor and stand before the most popular guy in the school. Captain of the basketball, football, and track teams. He wasn't above jumping me a couple of times himself. I had a couple of bruises thanks to him. I hold the gun to his head, and say, "I don't know if I should offer you a chance for last words."
"Go to hell, you piece-" I cut him off with a pull of the trigger. When the body hits the floor, I deliver a swift kick to his ribs. It doesn't feel like he paid enough. I spit on the corpse, and then move on.
"Ah, the lovely Mai." I say as move in front of the busty lioness. The most popular girl in the school, dating Mr. Skunk-on-the-floor. The only girl on my list, and the only one in any position to make things easier on me. Her lack of action to stop them makes her just as guilty. "A kiss for the man with the gun?"
"In your dreams. I don't kiss murderers." She spits at me, but misses. I smack her on the head with the pistol. When she yells, I stick the gun in her mouth.
"Well, then, you can kiss your life goodbye, bitch." Another pull, another bullet. Just two more to go.
All of the victims of justice so far have been leading up to this. The fur pulling all the strings. The trendsetter, Lawrence. The zebra stands tall as I move in front of him. "I was wondering when you would get to me."
"I had to work up from the bottom, to let you know that you can't beat me any more, Lawrence. How does it feel to lose to a nobody that no one cares about, an outcast." I say, the calmness in my voice hiding the rage, the glee, and the fear that this will all soon fall apart.
"I wouldn't know, I have only lost to a bear with a gun. I must say, I admire how Martin met his end. It gave me courage." I snap, and my hand clenches around the handle of the gun. The eighth bullet I have fired goes through his neck, as I had yet to raise it fully to his face. Blood sprays from his jugular and a gurgle comes from the new hole in his windpipe. Unlike the others, he doesn't slump to the ground lifelessly. He spasms and writhes on the ground in agony for a few seconds before going limp.
This is it, I have finally gotten them all. The masterminds behind my tortuous trek through eight years of school. All taken care of with eight bullets. I hadn't thought that it could be so poetic.
But it isn't over yet. There is still one more bullet that needs to be fired, one more fur that needs to pay for what he has done. He didn't plan out what happened, or even take part of the pastime of making me miserable. He just stood by and let it happen. Like Mai, he could have stopped it so much sooner, but never did. Without moving, I point the gun at his head, "Goodbye." And I pull the trigger.