Ten past twelve shows the clock, moving its metallic hands, with every second to mark. I am tiered of being alone. People point and stare at me because I am different, different because I think! Higher forces of people control our lives; they control us with lies that lead to pain and suffering. I can not stand how stupid and controllable these people are.
The clock ticks second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. My classmates talk silently not caring about their fate, believing in a so called heaven to avoid fear of death. Believing somehow that death is not the end, that death is the beginning of something new.
The clock keeps ticking. I pull out a shotgun and the silence roars into screams of panic. I look into the eyes of my classmates, fear is on their faces; fear of dying and discovering that there is no past-life. I killed them one by one. Blood rushing onto the floor, painting the carpet with a dark red. Twenty-three bodies lay in front of me. Blood is all over the floor and walls.
The clock ticks on. A tear falls from my eye. I raise the gun silently to my head and pull the trigger. The blast echoes through my head, darkness blinds my sight and I fall with a thud to the ground. Twenty four bodies lay on the class floor. Silence is throughout the room, the only sound that is to be heard is the sound of the clock ticking rhythmically, second by second, minute by minute…
…tick, tick, tick, tick…