“I don’t care,” I said.
“It’s not our fault, David,” said Rachel.
“I don’t care,” i leveled my pistol at her forehead, the butt-end of it leaving a mark just above the left eyebrow.
They never understood me. Through high-school. Through College.
“Screw it, Rachel! He’s crazy!” Norman screamed from his cowardly corner.
A shot from my pistol blew a hole in his cheek and he fell silent. A smile split my face.
“Sorry about that,” i chuckled, despite myself.
“David!” Rachel shouted at me, her eyes wide as plates, her hands playing at her neck nervously.
“Shut up, Rachel, for christ sakes.” i showed her the barrel of my gun, “I loved you once, but I could just as easily pull the trigger,”
“What do you want, David?” Rachel eyed the 4 others; my hostages.
“You, Rachel,”
“That’s impossible,”
I knew it. I loved her. I longed for her. I kissed her. I shot her. She died. And I laughed; and then cried as the C4 took the rest of us to hell with her; the BITCH !!!
Death is so cold!