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He leans against the dumpster, tears burning his eyes. I can't go on anymore. Em, it's just too hard. I'm dying. I'm dying alone and without any spark. His stomach clenches and he feels his guts twitch. Damn these people. A few kids snicker as they see him crying. He stands up and walks back into the school, past the kids who are waiting for buses, past the teachers watching the children and into the school. The assistant principal is walking just in front of him. Damn you. Damn you. The janitor's fists begin to shake. He moves faster, stiffly and surely. "Hey!" The assistant principle slowly turns around. "Is there a problem?" This is it. Just grab him, choke him. Choke him! Kill him, like he killed Emily. Like they killed my baby. All of those self-righteous, self-proclaimed servants. All of those middle class whores, who abuse everyone else. Choke him. Grab his fucking neck! The janitor starts forwards and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a red pickup truck. What? No… instead of the truck, he looks at the boy with the backpack. It's all so surreal. The boy is crying and shakily pulling something out of his backpack. Oh… no… the boy is clenching his jaw as he pulls out a pistol. The cold blue steel gleams dully as the janitor changes direction. "Son, don't do this! It gets better or it gets worse. But it gets better first. Don't…" The boy looks at him. Oh kid, no. It won't change anything; it will just make it worse. The boy begins to relax, the janitor smiles, "Come on son." "Fuck you, you jerk!" The boy pulls the gun up, the janitor lunges at the boy. |