Chain Writing - Intro.

People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.

I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”

It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.


People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.



People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.



People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.