I Am Carnage

I am carnage.

Jenni Struthers looks up at me, her cute little face pink and cheeks soaked with hot tears. I see the fear in her eyes, and she’s begging for her life: Please, no, please God no! Stop, please stop! I’ll do anything!

No need to call me God, I chuckle, as I swing the claw hammer down toward her face. It connects with her front tooth and shatters it. She screams. Oh god, oh god, please stop! I beg you! More weeping.

I laugh and bring the hammer down again. She tries to move her head, but she can’t – I’ve strapped her down too tightly. All she can do is close her eyes as my vengeance rains down. Her other tooth shatters in an explosion of blood and enamel and she screams again, so, so loud.

I am carnage.

I grab the drill from the bench. I pull the trigger and the bit whirrs in the rotating chuck. She is begging for mercy. I push the rotating bit into her sternum. She arches her back and thrashes in pain and screams and screams and screams as the rotating metal pierces and grinds her flesh.

I feel something give and her scream is cut short. Blood spills from the corners of her mouth and she lies still against the hard metal of the table again. She chokes, and coughs blood.

I am carnage.

“Suzy,” Mrs. Jefferson says pleasantly, “Time to hand in your paper. The test is over.”

I hand her my finished algebra quiz. I stare across the room at beautiful, blond Jenni Struthers sitting at her desk.

I am carnage.

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