[WP] Fourteen are killed in a high school mass-murder/suicide in a small town. Scanning the shooter's room for evidence, the police find a sheet of notebook paper taped to the desk titled 'Thoughts'.

Walled. That’s all I can really describe it as. My life is a series of walls, and they close in with each passing day.

“You’re too annoying. You cry too much. You just want attention. You’re copying us because you’re not original.”

It’s what my friends say. My enemies?

“You’re the worst thing that’s happened to us. You’re a flea on the back of your friends; you suck the life out of them. No one likes you. You should just kill yourself.”

And I should. Shouldn’t I?

My parents. They love me. But… I lash. I don’t deserve their kindness and… they don’t know what to do with me.

I was a happy girl. You know? Happy. I laughed fearlessly. I explored what was given to me. I was brave and bright.

My parents already mourn her because she’s my first casualty. The body I took from her? Me? They don’t know me anymore.

I think I’m going insane. Really.

I was looking at the art from the students in the advanced class. I always wanted to be an artist. I’m not good enough. Jimmy tore apart the butterfly I was drawing the other day.

“It’s not as good as Laura’s.”


We were close. I admire her because she is everything I want to be: smart, pretty, artistic, athletic.

I’m. Me.

But back to the art.

There was a portrait of some woman. I saw her blink at me. She shed a tear for me. I felt my heart weeping too.

I’m so fucking melodramatic.

I wonder if my friends would even notice I was missing. My parents would. I don’t know how much they’d care anymore. I’m not the daughter they raised and loved.

I was sitting in the quad and I felt something warm land on my leg. Mike spit on me.

That’s new.

Shooters are typically male.

Girl's are soft and nurturing. I bring life into this world, not take it.

But every time I walk in the halls, the sneering eyes burrowing into my flesh, I feel a part of me die. Parts I didn’t even know were still alive, struggling for me, straining everything they have for me. I’ll let them down, like I’ll let down the girl I used to be, like I’ll let down what my parents hoped for me.

It’s okay though. Because pain is temporary.

I am nothing.

They will be nothing.

We can burn together.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread