Just from the look on your face when I approached you with my perfect plan told me you wanted in. You wanted revenge for the years of torture you experienced at their hands. You were sick of it. We decided Friday was the perfect day for our plan.
Today, you told me where you would get the supplies. It wasn't too hard, as you were resourceful. My plan would go better than I hoped with you helping.
You had almost everything we needed already. No one would notice what was missing until it was too late. You had become a puppet in my plan, and a slave to your pride. A twisted soul bent on revenge.
You hid your father's gun with the rest of the stuff. My perfect plan was almost a reality by this point.
We chose today because there was a pep rally. You followed the plan flawlessly. You shot anyone who was unfortunate enough to be outside the auditorium. A student, a couple teachers. Bang. Bang. Bang. You looked at me, handing me the gun to complete the plan. You expected me to open the doors and shoot into the crowd. That's what you thought my plan was. That wasn't my plan at all. You knew what was happening when I gave you that look. A quick struggle for the gun, followed by an ear-piercing gunshot. The plan was perfect, you see. You would become a villain, while I would be praised as a hero.
Hey there. This is actually based off a poem I read. I can't remember the name of the poem for the likes of me. I do no condone anything in this story.
Thanks for reading.