High School with THEM

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Anderson

When he came to where she was, she was bent over a tree spewing her guts out. Walking over caustiously she turned to him. He saw her hands drenched with blood. It was then he saw around a massecre. Senna groaned and spewed up more. Remaining calm he continued over and whispered, "What happened?"

"I-I-I couldn't stop."

Breaking the distance between them he asked, "Couldn't stop what?"

Trembling uncontrobably she pointed, her head turned away from it. Anderson looked round to see a young deer carcus. It had been torn to shreds.

"Oh..."

She looked down at her feet not saying anything.

Sighing loudly he walked over to her and wrapped his body around her, saying, "What have I done?"

Senna looked up at him. "It's not your fault." She cried.

"How you know it isn't... You were my first... maybe it passes that way..."

Lowering head back down she argued, "I don't know, but it's not your fault, we didn't know."

"I was responsible for what you just did there! ...I really was..."

"I went along, I could've stopped you." She argued.

Anderson shook his head and repeated himself pointing to the carcass, "I was responsible for what you just did there! ...I really was..."

"Stop blaimin yourself." She said, "Your making me feel all the worse."

Nodding he leant in and kissed her cheek gently, she flinched foir a bit, then stopped, "The whole world going mad... and we're talking about this... Why did you choose to hide the body of the PE teacher?"

Senna shrugged. "I didn't want you gettin in trouble."

"But... I almost killed you... well I don't know..."

Pleading with him, she said, "But you were mad, it was ok."

"You didn't even like me though?"

"In a way I did." she admitted.

"Forget it... Where we go now?"

She smiled, "Oh. I don't care."
We get off to the rhythm of the trigger and destruction. Fallujah to New Orleans with impunity to kill. We are the hidden fist of the free market.
We are the ink, we are the quill.
[The Ink And The Quill (Be Afraid) - Anti-Flag]



Writing is the geometry of the soul.
— Plato