Vengeance
She was the most important thing in the whole world. 'Was', being the key word there. Now that she is gone, it is most important that I seek vengeance on those who have commited this wrong. There shall be retribution. All my life, all my fucking life, I have been alone. Well, except for when Jess was there for me. My dad, a joke cop, my mom, gone, my sister, dead. She was dating this guy named Mike. I fucking hated him. He was one of those gangsta type guys, dressing like he's black, always acting, never being himself - ultimately misguided. Just like every other person I've ever met, he treated me as though he was on a higher level. I always stand below; confused, belittled, unconfident. Jess gave me confidence. What started it all was when Jess had this guy over and they were doing something in her room and I heard the phone ring. Jess picked it up and it was Mike. Judging from what I heard of the conversation, Mike heard the other guy in the background when she picked up and he started flippin' out or something. Without any success, Jess tried to convince him that it was just dad and he had nothing to worry about. I decided to pick up the pointless phone in my room and pretend like I had to make an urgent call, therfore bailing her out. But when I picked up the phone, I heard him threaten to kill her. The next day, he shot her in the side of the head. I know it was him. Always trying to prove something to his friends. I've heard about the stupid shit he does, robbing people, selling drugs, being aggressive to those that are helpless. I refuse to be helpless anymore. It is time that I take this in to my own hands. Dad and his "elite" team think it was just a robbery gone wrong. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing. What bullshit. Dad hasn't missed a day of work since she died. That heartless bastard. I found his spare gun under his bed. A nickel-plated, snubnose revolver. Six loaded shots and ankle-holster included. Tomorrow, I will walk right in to his class and blow him away in front of everyone. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain. Aside from justice, that is of course. I feel a constant head rush when the gun is in my hands, it pulls the pin on the can of nerve gas in my brain. There is noise downstairs, dad must be home. I might as well start taking out the garbage now because I know he'll ask me to at some point. I grab the garbage and pass dad without saying a word on my way outside. I light up a cigarette and inhale. Hold it in, even though you're not supposed to. I go to the side of the house and lift the large plastic cover for the miniature dump. The light from my cigarette gleamed off of something metal in the surrounding darkness of the inner garbage. I leaned in and clutched the obscure and surprisingly heavy object. Good Lord. It's a fucking shotgun.