I could see it all happening, but I couldn’t control it. I felt so disconnected from my own body. I watched my body walk to my locker as students and teachers brushed past. Just before my lunch, it wasn’t strange that I was going to my locker. But I knew it was different. I felt my fingers brush against the lock turning it left, right, left, willing myself to stop. But I had no control over this thing inside me. As the door swung open, I watched my hands grasp the object I swore I would never use; until now.
I begged myself to stop, falling to my knees. I willed it to put the mechanism back in my locker. To pretend I didn’t have it and then get rid of it when I got home. I yelled at the thing to stop. For others to run. But they couldn’t hear me. I continued to scream and cry and plead.
But the gun stayed in its grasp.
Students started to see it holding the gun and tried to run and warn others. Some dropped to the ground begging. It walked past them. People ran away into classrooms locking doors. Then, it aimed. And it shot.
One person fell.
Then I was holding the gun.
I was connected like a magnet to metal. I dropped the heavy metal alien object in my hands and fell to the ground.
This wasn’t possible.
My vision blurred.
Hands clamped my shoulders.
I screamed while they push me to the solid ground kicking the gun away.
“I didn’t do this!” I screamed, “It did it! I tried to stop It, but It wouldn’t!”
The faces I could see looked at me like a maniac. They didn’t know the truth! They had to know! I was framed! Someone stole my body and framed me for murder! Someone needed to believe me! Someone had to! Students trapped in the hall stood shunned as I was dragged past. They couldn’t believe I was the one to do it. As they dragged me to the cruiser, I saw my life fading away. And this time, I couldn’t get it back.
I knew him before it happened. He was nice and sweet. He would never hurt a fly. He was one of my best friends. He got me through tenth grade. Some days though starting in eleventh grade, there was something different inside him. Fighting to get out. Small outbursts of something evil growing inside. When he was dragged out he was screaming about “It.” He’d never done anything like this. No one had.
The boy who’d been killed; I knew him too. We’d never been friends and he’d been sort of a bully, but he didn’t deserve to die. When it happened, I couldn’t feel anything. My insides had melted and all that was left were some lanky limbs and an organ smoothie. I hadn’t realized how real school shootings were until that second. And as soon as I realized, I felt my organ smoothie freeze and my legs were glued to the ground. While others ran to classrooms, I stood still awestruck acting like if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t see me.
But when the boy fell to the ground, I felt my legs running but I hadn’t moved. My mind moved away but I couldn’t. when the cops pulled the boy away I didn’t see a crazed lunatic. I must be crazy, but I saw the sweet boy I knew. He looked stunned at what had happened.
I’m crazy right?