I see you out there, in the crowd.
You don't know I'm standing, watching, waiting, but, then again, you don't know anything. You're one of them now. I would rather die than be like you. I'm sure you would have too.
I'm sorry, but you're not yourself.
I'm sorry, but I have to do this.
You have to understand.
I pick up my gun, load it, and point. None of you see me, or at least no one shows that they do. I fire, the shot breaking through the air.
You fall.
I'm sorry, but you have to understand.
I fire more shots, taking down your new friends as I go. Some of them run away, but the dumber ones stumble towards me. Most of your brainless buddies are dead now, though I'm sure you had more.
I'm sorry, but it's what I had to do.