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"Hey faggot! Suck any dicks lately?" All of his friends laughed at the joke. Little did they know what I had planned for later in the day. No one knew what was going to happen later. That made it real. It also made me be able to push through the multiple other things that were said to me that day.

Just a few more hours, Jake. They won't have anything to laugh at anymore.

The cheerleaders, the jocks, hell, even my ex boyfriend jumped into calling me a fag, gayboy, etc. It started to actually get bad once I hit high school. In middle school, everyone called each other gay. That was just what everyone did.
Then, during summer before my freshman year of high school, I hooked up with Brian; a sophomore going to the same high school that I was about to go into.

We met at a party. He gave me my first beer, something that I had grown into drinking on a daily basis. He also gave me my first kiss. And boy oh boy, was he a great kisser. Basically, that night, we both got really drunk and we fucked. He had a way with his mouth, if you know what I'm saying.

I saw him a few other times at other parties over the summer. We met up at two of them. We drank even more and he introduced me into pot. That only made our sex even better. God, I can just imagine it again.

When summer was over, I saw him at school. I went up to him on my first day, trying to hug him. He declined, turned over to his friends, and said, "Get a load of this faggot." I felt my heart break in my chest as I walked away in shame. Ever since that moment of my freshman year, I've been tormented for my sexuality. I don't understand why the fuck it matters to them anyway, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Every single one of them won't live to see tomorrow.
I have a plan.

-

At the end of my second period, I head to the restroom to prepare my gun. Loading bullet after bullet into the gun made me anxious. I was really doing this. Better save one more for myself at the end. Or maybe I'll kill Brian with it. Who knows.

I exit the restroom, gun hidden underneath my black t-shirt. Entering the cafeteria made me nervous. Everyone turned to look at me as I heard a football player call out "Gaaayyy!" in a deep voice. The entire cafeteria burst out into laughter.

Fuck it. It's time.

As I pull my gun out from under my shirt, I aim for my first target; Lance Gallagher, otherwise known as the guy that called me a faggot this morning. Screams come out of many different people, as I pull the trigger. The bullet goes through Lance's neck.
Bulls eye, I think in my head.
Time to aim for the my other victims.

Jenny Matthews, Frank Triviani, Tommy Lancaster, Ingrid Jones, and so many other people.

I can hear people pleading for their lives, not that it matters to me. Evey single person at this school as called me at least one name. That's bullshit. No one deserves that, whether you're queerer than a three dollar bill or straighter than a line.

Hearing the shrieks of my classmates sent a sense of pleasure through my body.
Sons of bitches got what they deserved.
Death.

When I get down to my last bullet, I put the gun up against my head. I decide not to pull the trigger. Brian's standing in the corner with about 15 other people, the one's I missed.

I walk up to him, gun at my side, and say "Like what you started, Brian? All because you're a selfish prick. I hate you and I hope you enjoy living with this on your conscience."

And with that, I put the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.