Of Crumbled Dreams and Midnight Skies

It was midday when I was released from science class. Today was the first day of my freshman year, making me only 15 years old. This meant that I was really nervous, which explains why I had trouble opening my locker. After multiple failed attempts, I finally got the locker to open, and a barrage of papers fell out. I sighed as I read the papers. 'Loser' read one, 'Pony Lover' read many more. Yes, I was a brony, and this locker-full-of-paper tradition had been going on since seventh grade. It started when I tried to get my friend to watch the show, and he told everyone about the conversation.

I swept the papers up into my arms, and dumped them into a nearby trash can. I trudged back over to my locker, and grabbed my things regarding math. I closed my locker, and looked at the clock. '11:54'. Shit, I was going to be late for class. I turned from my locker, and quickly made my way to the correct room. I stopped in front of the door for a brief glance at the clock. It read '11:55' and I still had around a minute before I was late. I heaved a sigh of relief and opened the door. I walked in, and sat down at my seat, no one noticing me. I set my notebook onto my desk, and leaned back, ready for the lesson to begin.

Mr. Skies walked over to the chalk board and picked up a yellow chalk stick. I wondered why he didn't use the smart board in the center of the room. The chalkboard was on the right side of the room, rendering it difficult to see, especially from my point of view. That was one of the many reasons why I had a C- in math. Despite the problem, I dare not question Mr. Skies. While he could be laid back, he likes to slap detentions a lot.

Mr. Skies started writing on the board. 'Trigonometry' was the finished result. Skies turned to us, "Good morning class, today we shall be discussing trigonometry. Please get out a blank sheet of paper, and await for further instruction." When he finished, he stalked over to the other side of the room, and sat down at his desk.

I opened my 2 inch notebook, and un-clipped a clean sheet of notebook paper. I proceeded to rip the edge of the paper, forcing me to grab another, un-ripped seat. I grunted in victory as I floated the paper onto my desk, which allowed a few glares from students beside me. I laughed inwardly at their reactions. I had learned to deal with students who disliked me. I didn't have any friends, so I learned to find humor from it. Despite the acceptance, I still felt hollow inside, especially when I saw guys with their girlfriends. It wasn't jealousy, but...yearning? Maybe, but Mr. skies started rambling again, shattering my thoughts.

"In the center of your paper, draw a pair of intersecting lines, and label them accordingly," he said, turning to the chalk board, following the steps he had just told us, "When this is completed, draw a circle in the center of the intersection". He completed his drawing, and I quickly drew it upon my paper.

He went on for about twenty minutes explaining the basics of trigonometry. The class eventually for stumped on a section called, 'Tables of values', or something like that. He then went on to explain the process multiple times, until we finally got it.

Mr. Skies was going to continue his boring lesson, when a serious of semi-loud *POPS* sounded from somewhere of the other side of the school. The class broke into a hushed whisper, discussing what the cause could've been. I just sat their, laid back in my chair. I had my suspicions, but I wasn't going to scare the class.

Mr. Skies eventually calmed the class down, and tried to continue his lesson. The session only lasted about ten seconds, before a serious of pops erupted again. It's time it was closer, and louder. Everyone started whispering again, albiet louder this time. I gradually raises my hand, and Mr. Skies pointed at me with a shaky finger, and I spoke, "Mr. skies, why are there gunshots coming from within the school?" I asked casually, not bothering to move. The classes noise level rose by a ton, and Mr. Skies was about to question me, when loud, frantic footsteps came pounding down the hallway. Those of which were followed by loud screams. Mr. Skies's eyes widened, and he looked at me, dumbfounded.

Another round of pops came closer, from the classroom to our left. I sat up, "Everyone, I would suggest getting on the ground. Getting shot would suck!" I said casually, walking over to the door. Surprisingly, everyone headed my warning, and dropped flat on their stomachs, including Mr. Skies. I opened the classroom door, and walked out into the hallway. I peered down the right side, nothing. I casually moved my head to the left, and cringed at the sight. Three students sat slumped against the wall, or laying on the floor, pools of crimson gradually forming under them.

I picked my way around them, and moved down the hallway. I neared an English class as I turned a corner. The door was open, and I heard angry yelling from within, in a foreign language. I crept low, Skyrim sneak style, and crept over to the door. I pokes my head inside. A large man, in a black trench coat stood towards the class, back to me. On the left side of the room, two girls sat slumped in their chairs, bullet wounds in their stomachs. The man held a PM-84 Glauberyt, or something close to it. I had seen it whilst researching military stuff. Oh, about that.

My family has always been military-ish. My great grandfather served in World War I, as a Sergeant Major. His military records showed that he flew planes against enemy planes, and even had an encounter with the infamous Red Baron. My Grandfather served in World War II, as a Corporal. He died when a pulley ricocheted off a tank and hit an oil canister on his flamethrower. It killed him instantly, for shards of shrapnel tore through him, like a knife through butter. Before my father died of a heart attack, he had served in the USMC, and received the Medal of Honor for saving a platoon from an ambush in Iraq.

Since I heard about his accomplishments, for he died before I was born, I wanted to be just like him. That's why I stood a staggering 6'3 and weighing 148 pounds. I know that's a lot for a 15 year old, but hey, I wasn't complaining. I worked out everyday at the local park, and shot guns with my grandpa. Also for my age, my voice was considerably deep, and it hasn't cracked in awhile.

I ducked my head around the corner, and breathed deeply. Two Options. Fight, or flight. I took another deep breath, and crept into the room. As I entered the room, no one noticed me. Good, the less attention the better. The coated man turned towards the teacher, and started yelling at him. The teacher shook his head wildly, and declared he couldn't understand. The strange man slapped the butt of the SMG across the English teachers face, sending him to the ground. I crept behind the teachers desk, and breathed deep again. I could hear the crying and frightened screams coming from the class. I peered over the desk, and surveyed the man.

As said before, he donned a coal black trench coat, with multiple pockets. On his waist sat a belt, with three magazines of 9x18mm subsonic ammo, made for less noise. Along with the ammo, a large KA-BAR knife sat hilted on his side. I closed my eyes, and crept around the desk. I noticed the eyes of students widened, but they obliged when I put a silencing finger to my mouth.

I nearly gaged when I reached the man, he reeked of alcohol and meth. No, I'm not a druggie, or alcoholic, but I know what it smells like. I neared only a few inches from the man, who was still yelling at the students. Just before I was going to reach the knife, he shot another student, straight through the head. This caused me to jump back, and the class to scream. Blood splayed students behind the poor soul, and brain matter littered the desks and floor. The student slumped over, and yuppies out of the chair. I jumped back in surprise, accidentally bumping into the desk. Whoops.

The man spun around when he heard a pound bang from behind him. My eyes widened and I turned to dive away, when a loud bang range through the air, and a bullet split through my leg. I dropped down to the ground in pain, but didnt move, he must've figured I had died or something, because he turned back to the class and shot another student. I grit my teeth as anger flowed through my veins. These kids were my classmate, even if they did neglect me.

I stood up shakily, and came up behind the man once more. I reached my hand out and grabbed the knife. He didn't notice my actions, silly fool. I reached my free hand up, and looped my arm tightly around his throat. Before he could react, I shoved the knife up until its hilt, just below his cerebellum, killing him instantly. I ripped the knife out, and the man ampules over onto his knees. I looked at him in range, and plunged the knife deep into his chest. I left the knife there, and grabbed the sub machine gun.

As I stood up, I noticed all of the shocked looks on the surviving students faces. I ignored their stares, and I moved to the most critically injured students. I slung the gun over my back, using the sing, and held the two girls in a fire and hold, and quickly made my way out of the door.

I sighed, relieved when I heard sirens closely outside. I quickly discarded the gun, wanting to make no threat. I slumped over to the door, and slowly opened it. I was met with a barrage of flashing lights, reporters with cameras and police sirens. My vision started to blur, and two SWAT members approached me. They grabbed the injured girls off of my arms, and hurried over to an ambulance.

I stood silent as reporters rushed me. They bombarded me with questions, and their camera flashes began to glow brighter. I staggered backward, and slumped onto my knees. Despite my fatigue, the questions grew more, and the flashes grew brighter. As I sat there, I brought an arm over my eyes, as the camera flashes seemed unnaturally bright. I felt something tap my shoulder, and I turned to see Mr. Skies standing before me. He nodded, and gave a two finger salute and whispered, "Good Luck, Grayson."

I was about to ask him what he meant, but someone yelled my name from behind me. I turned, and closed my eyes, the flashes were to bright now. I could feel blood pooling around me. My vision blurred. The camera flashes grew brighter. My legs shook....the camera flashes grew brighter. My hearing seemed to falter, and my vision became distant. The camera flashed grew bright, and eventually.....grew to bright. The flashes overtook me, and my vision faded black.

I could still hear the voices. But one in particular stood out.

"Do what's right Grayson, they need you...."

And then I fell into oblivion.