Unseen Penalties

He was a quiet boy, respectful; he'd never spoken more than a dozen words at a time. So it surprised everyone with just how vocal he could be as he started screaming and yelling at them to listen to him for once. But he had their undivided attention this time. There wasn't a single person in the cafeteria who wasn't looking at him... or the gun he held in his hand.
That morning Krys had woken up, gotten dressed, walked into is father's room, pulled the 22 out from underneath the bed, and proceeded to load it. His dad was passed out on top of the covers; he'd never notice Krys there. He never noticed anything Krys did. No one did. He was a nothing, a nobody. Only his teachers knew his name, and his father, when he was sober. When he wasn't, Krys became "shithead". It was always "hey shithead, get me another beer", or "shithead, how come you haven't cleaned the house yet?" or something of the like. But he was going to pay for all the crap he'd put him through. Krys stood up, raised his extended arm, and aimed. His father was gone in seconds. He never felt a thing; he was probably too plastered to even know he was dead.
Taking one last look at the bleeding body lying on the bed, he left the room, closed the door, and went to school. That's how he got to where he was now. He had hidden the gun in his locker all morning, but it was time. Here was his chance to get back at all of those people who had ignored him on such a daily basis. Who had whispered about the smart kid behind his back, or even just in front of him because they didn't care. Who, in one way or another made his life Hell. They were all going to pay, just like his father had paid for all the things he'd done.
Krys had just finished his long speal at the whole school when the principal walked in and Krys watched as his jaw dropped. Another person who would never have thought quiet little Krys would ever act in such a manner.
He shot him. The bullet hit him right smack between the eyes. Everyone screamed and ducked as Mr. Matthews' body slumped down onto the floor in an ever-widening red pool.
At this, Michelle started crying. She had every right to cry, she was one of the people on his list, but it wasn't her turn yet. It was time for his Geometry teacher, Mr. Pratten. He'd given Krys an A- and he had gotten beaten for the unacceptable grade. He fell on top of Mrs. Olwerthy as he died and she started squealing. Krys put her out of her misery with two shots, both to the chest. She was gone in seconds.
He stared shouting out names of people to come forward.
"George Melvin, Shana Rutherland, Ian Alman, Michelle Manon, Devin Honrek, Mr. Tuland, Rick Sanders, Noelle LaFonte, Marilee Johnson, Levi Corwen..." and so on.
They all timidly came forward, and as they did he told each of them their crime, and then he shot them.
"Michelle, remember when I asked you out last week? You probably don't, such a lowly creaton like me, why would you? You also probably have no idea how much it devastated me when you turned me down, do you?" She stood quivering in silence. "You're so beautiful, and I'm so sad to see you die because I know you'll be missed by so many people. Feel loved that people care about you. All I had was a drunk of a Father who could care less if I died. He'd only know I was gone when the dishes started piling up, and when he called for me to do them, and I wouldn't come, then he'd know. But he's gone now... just like you."
He watched her eyes widen in fear as she realized she was really about to die. Then he watched her eyes as they suddenly glazed over with the blank stare of death. Krys whispered goodbye to the lovely dark-haired beauty. Then he moved on.
"Hey Levi, you want to come up here too?" He said. Levi slinked forward. He had been trying to hide, but it wasn't working. Krys saw everything that was going on. He wasn't stupid.
"Man, could you just put the gun down, please?" Begged Levi.
"I'm sorry I can't do that, but I tell you what, I'll make it quick. I won't even tell you what you did. You of all people should already know." As soon as he was gone, his girlfriend Trina ran over to him and started sobbing hysterically. Krys gave her some time to morn over him. He knew they were in love. They would be together forever after Krys was done.
She looked up at him finally, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were begging Krys to shoot her too. She didn't want to be without him. He helped her out with a shot to the heart. Her heart that loved a boy who had treated him so terrible... He hoped they burned in hell together.
"How about... you. George, come here next why don't you? I've got some things to say, and after that, I've got a present for you."
He started crying and stuttering.
"P-please K-Krys, don shoo-oot m-me. I-I don wanna die."
"But you know what you've done also. I'll humor everyone else by saying what it was.
"A couple of weeks ago, when you were walking through the hall, laughing with Todd and Shawn, I was walking in the opposite direction of you, and you guys targeted me. You came over, knocked my books out of my hands, scattering all of my history notes everywhere, and then you started kicking my things around, stepping on them, ruining them.
"Do you really think you deserve to live after you've treated me like that? Do any of you think he deserves to live? I know I'm not the first person he's tortured for no reason..."
A few heads turned away, not wanting the opinions to be seen in their eyes. No one was cruel enough to say anything... the truth. But Krys was cruel enough to pass judgment.
He shot him in the head, the same place as the principal. George collapsed right next to poor little Michelle. The room was silent for a moment or two.
The doors suddenly burst open. The cops had finally arrived. Krys had been waiting for them. Such a long time he had had with his teachers and peers. He hadn't expected it, but was happy.
"Kid, put the gun down."
Krys contemplated shooting the cops for more time, but it wasn't their fault. They hadn't done anything wrong, it was their job, and he couldn't shun them for that. So, he decided to finish his work quickly. He started shooting as many students and teachers as he could.
The cops saw what needed to be done, and opened fire on Krys.
He was hit with six bullets, 3 in the abdomen, 1 in the head, and the last two were in his left arm. He died quickly, his blood was everywhere. It bubbled from his wounds, and spurted from his arm. A girl across the room from him started to throw up. They all evacuated as soon as they could get their feet out the door.

A man stood by Krys's grave a week later. He had no tears in his eyes, only a deep sorrow that would never go away. He knew it was his fault. He knew that he had messed up and nothing could ever fix it.
The man suddenly started screaming. He broke down crying hysterically. Falling onto his knees, he hugged the tombstone, and whispered, "I always loved you, son, you were all I ever had. I'm so sorry I never got around to saying it."
He picked up the twelve-pack sitting behind him and took out the last one. As he set it on Krys's grave, he vowed he'd never touch alcohol ever again. Krys's father lived the rest of his life sober, and remorseful. He was enduring a much worse penalty then Krys had ever imagined.