People think they know you inside out. An open book, if you will. You're just... You. Nobody truly cares. It's alright though, because in a few minutes, everyone will suddenly care. Everyone will stop for one moment and look at that kid they knew so well. You snort at the thought of their terrified faces. You relish the thought of the taste of their fear. Cracking your fingers, you decide to imagine the faces on the teachers. Where had that 'A' student gone? That level-headed kid who would do their homework one day early? That child is gone now. He isn't coming back.
Your parents will be the best recipients to the show. Shocked, bleary eyes and perhaps a thin trail of tears. Perhaps they shouldn't have made their safe combination so easy. You hope to be there when they turn on the news. They'd probably scream, alert the police at once. Then you would just laugh and enjoy the show. You'd planned this out to a tee. Everything is going to be perfect. You're going to leave your mark; a river of blood soaked snow, staining the knees of those who dare walk through. Dirtying the pure place of learning that you've learned to resent.
You're going to smile, and laugh. Maybe enthrall the guests with another round. They certainly won't be shouting 'Encore' but it is your duty as an artist to show them the best to your ability. They'll miss that smile; the normal, happy one that people learned to notice from a room away. You might choose your best sneer for intimidation, but that would be to typical. Too regular. You want to make sure that this show will best the others. You want people to remember it. Instead, you decide to go with a genuine, warmhearted smile.
Many people would be afraid. But you aren't. You welcome the new challenge that awaits you with open arms. Some feel as if they need to make a mark on this world. Oh, you'll leave your mark. People will walk by it every day. They'll just grimace, although you know they're hiding a nonexistent smile. All of them. You temporarily think upon your plan of action. Is it the correct path in the maze that you have been so unfairly trapped in? You reassure yourself that this path will most certainly lead to the goal.
As you stand outside your notorious school building, you stare at the passerby's. Not like they will matter. They're but dust in the wind. You run your fingers along the smooth metal surface of the object you are clinging to so desperately. It's so ironic to you. This device was meant to end lives, and yet, it is your only lifeline. You chuckle to yourself at the bitter truth of it all.
These people think they know who you are. They have convinced their small minds exactly who you are. They think they know your mannerisms. You're just that one kid who no one will bother to remember. They'll remember you now. They all know that you're just a level headed person who'd never intentionally hurt anything. With the press of a trigger, you can prove them wrong.
You flash the object that had been so carefully gripped in your hands. One boy catches sight of the gruesome weapon and screeches a warning call to the others. You laugh and act as if there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, there's no real danger, is there? People run in panic, as you brandish the weapon happily. Don't they trust you? You wouldn't hurt anything with innocence. Quickly, their cries of fear bore you. You aim the weapon at your first and only target.
You dare not look your target in the eyes. It's much better that way. The only truly guilty person here. They have caused you unfathomable pain. Forced you to suffer under a mask that blocks you from the vitally needed air. Your target submits quickly, allowing you to press the silver barrel of your weapon to their chest. Nobody is afraid now. No one dares step forward. But they're all listening with alert ears and open minds. Your target grins nervously to the crowd. His show will end soon, and when it does, everyone will stay for the credits.
With a crooked smile, you smash the trigger, ripping the lifeline your target so desperately holds in two. You grin childishly as the smell of blood reaches your nose. The salty taste makes it's way to your lips, and you lap it up with a grin. Suddenly, the mask fades. You are finally free of the tormenting. The expectations and pressure that consumed you. Weakly, you fall to the ground, allowing the warmth of the blood-laden snow to envelop you in it's embrace.
Your target, the one that had so cruelly shut you out. The one who forced you to end his pitiful existence. The one who drove you mad. He is the only possible guilty one in this whole ordeal. And the one only guilty man now has a bullet in his chest. Actually, that's interesting. Because the last time you checked, the only guilty one in this whole show...