"This is the last time," I said. I ran towards my house trying to keep the tears at bay. Unfortunately, my leg got stuck in a branch and with a loud thud I fell down. Pain shot through the hand I had just landed on. I saw a tiny droplet of blood and let out a chuckled. Blood had become a part of my life that seeing it gave me a feeling of belonging.
With a deep breath, I shakily stood up. My house appeared and I quickly took out my keys. The door flew open to show an empty house… just like always. I walked the familiar path to my room and loudly closed the door behind me.
There they were my brand new scissors. This morning she had sharpened them to prepare for the event. Of course, killing was not an everyday occasion, so I had to look my best.
After thirty minutes of putting my make up on, I walked towards my closet. A dress awaited, a beautiful blood-red dress. All the odd jobs had finally paid off.
I didn't bother writing goodbye letters like in all those movies, I knew nobody would even notice I was gone. No, I wasn't sad about it not anymore. The only feeling left inside of me was hate. A hate which I couldn't contain any longer.
And no, I wasn't suicidal. Why should I hurt myself, when I could hurt others? Revenge, such a sweet word. I was done with all the insults and my "friends" thinking that I was unconditionally nice.
They were about to meet my pretty pair of scissors. I was about to clean the world, one asshole at the time…