Status: Finals are coming by and I need to get my grades up. I won't be updating this very much. I'm sorry. Bare with me.
We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets
The Shooter, The ***er, The Traitor
Something unexpected happened the next day at school. A girl hung herself in the bathroom. It was during lunch. I was actually sitting with friends, enjoying my time at school. Eddie, a large boy from my fourth hour, was telling jokes about My Little Pony and they put me in tears. After a few I was gasping for breath and Alex made a joke that Eddie had 'broke me'.
"Eddie, you broke Anna!" he said in a chuckle. Eddie laughed with him, either at me or with me. I couldn't tell, but I didn't care. I was happy then. Then a girl screamed. Everything went silent and all the students followed the noise. A stampede of teenagers rushed to one bathroom while one girl fell to her knees and cried. The whole crowd gasped and shrieked in unison, including me. I never saw a dead body before that day. My parents never let me go to any funerals because I couldn't stand when people cried. I didn't know how to act when being were in their state of grief.
I had no idea what to do then. A young, blonde girl, had to be a freshman, hung from a white belt in the girl's bathroom. Her eyes were wide open. She was starring at us all with a thousand yard stare. It didn't take long for a dozen teachers and three police officers to cut through the crowd and push everyone back. A science teacher cut her down while another teacher called nine-one-one. It took them fifteen minutes to get there, but they said that she was dead before they got there. Her name was Katelyn, I believe. She was fourteen from what I heard. Classes were closed for the day. Everyone was escorted into the gym where they held a service for the girl. Westfield's principal, Mr. Wullenborg, stood up on a podium and spoke for a full two hours.
"With the recent tragedy that has struck Westfield, I am suspending classes for today and fifth hour tomorrow. You will report here, in the gym, during your regular scheduled fifth hour. Anyone found skipping or off campus will be suspended," he warned sternly. Alex and Eddie who sat next to me were high-fiving each other because they both had gym for that hour. "This school has seen many tragedy. Let's take a moment to remember the ninty-four massacre where fifteen of our beloved students, unfortunately lost their lives," he said out of nowhere. I ignored the people around and tried to listen in on Wullenborg as he began to tell the story but there were so many people talking and whispering to one another it was hard to hear. "A boy, who went to this school shot and killed fifteen students. It has scarred this school for seventeen years. Those students, those children, who be grown by now. They should have graduated from Westfield, went off to college, gotten married, and had beautiful children, but it was all taken away from them. One boy, Kyle Greenwell, had a scholarship to go to Georgia Tech for football. He was an amazing quarterback for our Wolverines. Another student, Amir Stanley, could have done amazing things for this world. He was the editor for our newspaper and one of the smartest boys I have ever had the honor of meeting," he explained with pride. I never met Wullenborg, but he was very proud of the school he ran. I could tell by the way he wore the school colors with his tie every day. He attended every game, applauded the athletes no matter what they did, and the way he walked through the halls with his head held high.
"Dude," said Alex lean over Eddie so we could talk, "the kid who shot these kids was so messed up. He walked in all Columbine and just wrecked everyone," he told me, as if I couldn't have guessed.
"I heard he was like a drug addict and his dad touched or something," Eddied chimed, picking at his nails.
"No! He was a drug addicted and he touched his retarded sister," Alex argued. They went back and forth for a couple of minutes before Jessica sat down besides me and finished it.
"He was a drug addicted, but he didn't touch anyone. He was just weird," she interrupted them both and then turned to me, "I did some research on it after our talk. The kid barged in, painted up like a skeleton, dressed in black, and holding an arsenal under his coat. He was tweaking on cocaine, or mashed up pills, or something, but he walks into a random class room and just starts lighting the place us. Bat! Bat! Bat! Kids go down, one by one and then they scatter like flies looking for a way out of a room. The whole school just erupts into chaos, creating crowds and packs. The shooter just rounds them all up and shoots them down again. Like sheep," as Jessica was explaining this, Wullenborg was telling the story but in a lighter sense. He was more disgusted while Jess was excited and sitting at the edge of the bleacher, "He enters the library and the students in their hide. There are five students and the librarian. He takes down the librarian, Bam! Then he goes after some bitch named Stephanie. She's hiding behind the bookshelves, but he's not stupid. His heavy boots hit the ground like thunder as he cocks his shotgun. The bullet shells crash against the tiles, echoing against the walls.
He pushed some books a side, searching for Stephanie. A few knock over and the stupid girl screams. He found her, grabbed her, put the gun up to her head and then pulled the trigger. Bam! Bitch drops. Four more to go. Kevin goes down next. He was hiding behind a chair and just gets laid out. Amir, this nerdy kid, tried calling nine-one-one from the library land line and the shooter puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains. Boom! Three down, two to go. Kyle and Chloe. Kyle was a stupid jock and tried getting the guy to stop. He's blow out across a table while his girl cries under the table next to it. Girl pisses herself. The shooter flips the table over and while she's begging for her life the guy presses the barrel against her chest," Jessica paused for a second. I knew Chloe didn't survived but I was still anxious to hear the ending to this tale.
"Bang!" she screamed so everyone around us jumped and gasped, "Blew her heart clean out of chest,". I went silent, hoping she would tell me the shooter's name or give me something about him other than he was sadistic but she didn't. Alex and Eddie didn't know the kid name so it was pointless to ask them.
"Who was he?" I asked very blankly. Jessica paused, trying to remember, but Wullenborg answered for her.
In a large, booming, and corrosive voice he yelled, "Tate Langdon! The shooter, the murderer, the traitor,".
"Eddie, you broke Anna!" he said in a chuckle. Eddie laughed with him, either at me or with me. I couldn't tell, but I didn't care. I was happy then. Then a girl screamed. Everything went silent and all the students followed the noise. A stampede of teenagers rushed to one bathroom while one girl fell to her knees and cried. The whole crowd gasped and shrieked in unison, including me. I never saw a dead body before that day. My parents never let me go to any funerals because I couldn't stand when people cried. I didn't know how to act when being were in their state of grief.
I had no idea what to do then. A young, blonde girl, had to be a freshman, hung from a white belt in the girl's bathroom. Her eyes were wide open. She was starring at us all with a thousand yard stare. It didn't take long for a dozen teachers and three police officers to cut through the crowd and push everyone back. A science teacher cut her down while another teacher called nine-one-one. It took them fifteen minutes to get there, but they said that she was dead before they got there. Her name was Katelyn, I believe. She was fourteen from what I heard. Classes were closed for the day. Everyone was escorted into the gym where they held a service for the girl. Westfield's principal, Mr. Wullenborg, stood up on a podium and spoke for a full two hours.
"With the recent tragedy that has struck Westfield, I am suspending classes for today and fifth hour tomorrow. You will report here, in the gym, during your regular scheduled fifth hour. Anyone found skipping or off campus will be suspended," he warned sternly. Alex and Eddie who sat next to me were high-fiving each other because they both had gym for that hour. "This school has seen many tragedy. Let's take a moment to remember the ninty-four massacre where fifteen of our beloved students, unfortunately lost their lives," he said out of nowhere. I ignored the people around and tried to listen in on Wullenborg as he began to tell the story but there were so many people talking and whispering to one another it was hard to hear. "A boy, who went to this school shot and killed fifteen students. It has scarred this school for seventeen years. Those students, those children, who be grown by now. They should have graduated from Westfield, went off to college, gotten married, and had beautiful children, but it was all taken away from them. One boy, Kyle Greenwell, had a scholarship to go to Georgia Tech for football. He was an amazing quarterback for our Wolverines. Another student, Amir Stanley, could have done amazing things for this world. He was the editor for our newspaper and one of the smartest boys I have ever had the honor of meeting," he explained with pride. I never met Wullenborg, but he was very proud of the school he ran. I could tell by the way he wore the school colors with his tie every day. He attended every game, applauded the athletes no matter what they did, and the way he walked through the halls with his head held high.
"Dude," said Alex lean over Eddie so we could talk, "the kid who shot these kids was so messed up. He walked in all Columbine and just wrecked everyone," he told me, as if I couldn't have guessed.
"I heard he was like a drug addict and his dad touched or something," Eddied chimed, picking at his nails.
"No! He was a drug addicted and he touched his retarded sister," Alex argued. They went back and forth for a couple of minutes before Jessica sat down besides me and finished it.
"He was a drug addicted, but he didn't touch anyone. He was just weird," she interrupted them both and then turned to me, "I did some research on it after our talk. The kid barged in, painted up like a skeleton, dressed in black, and holding an arsenal under his coat. He was tweaking on cocaine, or mashed up pills, or something, but he walks into a random class room and just starts lighting the place us. Bat! Bat! Bat! Kids go down, one by one and then they scatter like flies looking for a way out of a room. The whole school just erupts into chaos, creating crowds and packs. The shooter just rounds them all up and shoots them down again. Like sheep," as Jessica was explaining this, Wullenborg was telling the story but in a lighter sense. He was more disgusted while Jess was excited and sitting at the edge of the bleacher, "He enters the library and the students in their hide. There are five students and the librarian. He takes down the librarian, Bam! Then he goes after some bitch named Stephanie. She's hiding behind the bookshelves, but he's not stupid. His heavy boots hit the ground like thunder as he cocks his shotgun. The bullet shells crash against the tiles, echoing against the walls.
He pushed some books a side, searching for Stephanie. A few knock over and the stupid girl screams. He found her, grabbed her, put the gun up to her head and then pulled the trigger. Bam! Bitch drops. Four more to go. Kevin goes down next. He was hiding behind a chair and just gets laid out. Amir, this nerdy kid, tried calling nine-one-one from the library land line and the shooter puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains. Boom! Three down, two to go. Kyle and Chloe. Kyle was a stupid jock and tried getting the guy to stop. He's blow out across a table while his girl cries under the table next to it. Girl pisses herself. The shooter flips the table over and while she's begging for her life the guy presses the barrel against her chest," Jessica paused for a second. I knew Chloe didn't survived but I was still anxious to hear the ending to this tale.
"Bang!" she screamed so everyone around us jumped and gasped, "Blew her heart clean out of chest,". I went silent, hoping she would tell me the shooter's name or give me something about him other than he was sadistic but she didn't. Alex and Eddie didn't know the kid name so it was pointless to ask them.
"Who was he?" I asked very blankly. Jessica paused, trying to remember, but Wullenborg answered for her.
In a large, booming, and corrosive voice he yelled, "Tate Langdon! The shooter, the murderer, the traitor,".