Virginia Tech: A Cho-ose Your Own Adventure
The girl slams the door against your sneaker, crushing your foot. You yelp and pull it out and you hear the bolt on the door slide home. You shudder with rage as you limp back to your dorm room. Over and over in your mind, you think about how she was cheating on you and realize there is nothing left to love in this world.
This world rejects you.
This world threw you away.
This world never gave you a chance.
This world's gonna have to pay...
You return to your room and grab your guns. Time to go a shootin'. At first, you planned on starting the shooting in the liberal arts classrooms; the same ones that didn't recognize the brilliance of your plays. But you think you should change the plan now. The girl who sent you tumbling down this dark rabbit hole of rage should be your first victim.
After tucking your guns into your ammo vest, you throw on a hat and march immediately back to room 4040. You knock on the door again, this time insistently. The timid boy who once came calling for love is gone forever now.
The door opens and the girl is standing there, this time in a sweatshirt and jeans like she's getting ready for class. She rolls her eyes when she sees you. "Dammit! I said leave me the fuck--"
Before she can finish her sentence, you pull the Walther out of your vest and aim it at her head. She suddenly goes cross-eyed looking at it is about to scream when you fire three shots into her face. She flops backwards onto the floor of her room, her face now nothing more than a smoking bloody crater where he nose used to be. You step into the room with the body, and though you're sure she was dead before she hit the floor, you fire one more bullet into her chest into her heart and between her two lovely breasts, the ones you once wanted to rest your head on and feel like everything would be okay.
"Remember, bitch. You broke my heart first," you whisper.
The resident advisor who lives in the room next door opens up the door to the room. "Hey! What's going on in here? You drop something" he says with genuine concern. The body, the blood, and smell of cordite in the air haven't registered. Before they can, you whip around and fire a shot which hits him right in the neck.
He collapses forward quietly. He tries to scream, but it comes out like a high-pitched whistle through the hole in his throat. Arterial blood squirts out in time with his dwindling heartbeat and he has both his hands clasped around his neck in a losing battle to keep all the blood in. You consider shooting him again to finish him off, but already been wounded mortally. Let him think about it for a second. Let him suffer like all the rest of them made you suffer.
You tuck the gun back into your vest and head back to your room. There's no one in the hallway since all these brats are too lazy to get up for early classes, so no one sees you. You lock the door behind you and wait. It's only seven twenty and classes don't start until eight, so it's pointless to go on your shooting spree now. You sit down on your bed and take a breather.
You see the manifesto you wrote sitting on your desk. For some reason, those four pages feel inadequate now. No one reads nowadays anyway. Perhaps you should spruce it up, add some videos and pictures so even the idiots will understand why you've unleashed this apocalypse on them.
Then again, perhaps you should leave. After all, you did just kill two people. If you spend too much time in your room, the authorities might search the building and you'll get caught before you can make everybody pay.
This world rejects you.
This world threw you away.
This world never gave you a chance.
This world's gonna have to pay...
You return to your room and grab your guns. Time to go a shootin'. At first, you planned on starting the shooting in the liberal arts classrooms; the same ones that didn't recognize the brilliance of your plays. But you think you should change the plan now. The girl who sent you tumbling down this dark rabbit hole of rage should be your first victim.
After tucking your guns into your ammo vest, you throw on a hat and march immediately back to room 4040. You knock on the door again, this time insistently. The timid boy who once came calling for love is gone forever now.
The door opens and the girl is standing there, this time in a sweatshirt and jeans like she's getting ready for class. She rolls her eyes when she sees you. "Dammit! I said leave me the fuck--"
Before she can finish her sentence, you pull the Walther out of your vest and aim it at her head. She suddenly goes cross-eyed looking at it is about to scream when you fire three shots into her face. She flops backwards onto the floor of her room, her face now nothing more than a smoking bloody crater where he nose used to be. You step into the room with the body, and though you're sure she was dead before she hit the floor, you fire one more bullet into her chest into her heart and between her two lovely breasts, the ones you once wanted to rest your head on and feel like everything would be okay.
"Remember, bitch. You broke my heart first," you whisper.
The resident advisor who lives in the room next door opens up the door to the room. "Hey! What's going on in here? You drop something" he says with genuine concern. The body, the blood, and smell of cordite in the air haven't registered. Before they can, you whip around and fire a shot which hits him right in the neck.
He collapses forward quietly. He tries to scream, but it comes out like a high-pitched whistle through the hole in his throat. Arterial blood squirts out in time with his dwindling heartbeat and he has both his hands clasped around his neck in a losing battle to keep all the blood in. You consider shooting him again to finish him off, but already been wounded mortally. Let him think about it for a second. Let him suffer like all the rest of them made you suffer.
You tuck the gun back into your vest and head back to your room. There's no one in the hallway since all these brats are too lazy to get up for early classes, so no one sees you. You lock the door behind you and wait. It's only seven twenty and classes don't start until eight, so it's pointless to go on your shooting spree now. You sit down on your bed and take a breather.
You see the manifesto you wrote sitting on your desk. For some reason, those four pages feel inadequate now. No one reads nowadays anyway. Perhaps you should spruce it up, add some videos and pictures so even the idiots will understand why you've unleashed this apocalypse on them.
Then again, perhaps you should leave. After all, you did just kill two people. If you spend too much time in your room, the authorities might search the building and you'll get caught before you can make everybody pay.