Grace Hamilton

I think I overslept last night. I've heard that sleeping too much makes you even more tired. That's probably what happened to me. I've only been up for a couple hours and already I want to head back to sleep.

I tried to think of things you might want to know.

Maybe you want to know about the gun.

During trial, the prosecutor said that I stole it from my father's safe, but that's not true. Yes, my father had a safe, and yes, that's where he kept the gun, but I didn't steal it.

My father gave me the gun.

Now, don't get your panties all in a bunch; he didn't know that I had malicious intent with it, if that's what you're thinking. He taught me how to shoot it when I was fifteen, in case of emergencies. He gave me a spare key to the safe and told me that I could go and get it if I needed it, which is exactly what I did.

The first time I shot that gun, it gave me a thrill like none other. I loved watching the bullets fly through the air at lightning speed, watching it go through the cardboard; quick and easy, that's what it was.

It was nothing compared to seeing the bullets pummel through human flesh, though. Now that... that was the most beautiful sight of all. I wish I could see it again.

And again.

And again.

Maybe I'll dream about it tonight; it won't be enough but it'll be something. I'm going to head to bed now. Goodnight, psychos! ;)

-Grace Hamilton