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Here are the chapters of a story i've been writing lately called Death Of Innocence. It's based on the early life of one of my roleplay characters, and is set in the early 90s.

A word of warning however, as the story does include sections which could disturb some readers. I wouldn't reccomend it to people with a sensitive mind.

There are 6 short chapters so far.

Death of Innocence, Chapter 1

The gun was almost staring at me. It was my father's, before he died. It seemed to be staring at me, glaring into my soul, daring me to take it. Well, i've never been one to turn down a dare, have I?

I picked up the gun, the cold steel filling my hands, making me feel strong, powerful. I put it in my bag and headed off to school.

Was I crazy? Quite possibly, but then again, my whole life had been crazy. Still, I walked to school, my uniform just like everyone else's, changing the school from a building of individuals into one big, hulking, nameless monster. That was what it felt like for me, having to be the same as everyone else. It was like your individuality had been stripped from you. It felt wrong.

Still the gun laid in my bag, silent and deadly, just waiting, biding its time until it gets used.

I walked through the school gates, and the jeers began already. I'd always been an easy target, my parents abused me, and so did my peers. Nobody wanted to be friends with the kid who always came in with a black eye, or a bust lip, or a freshly healed cut on his body somewhere.

The staff knew what was happening to me. They didn't care, nobody cared. Everyone preferred to scuttle around like cockroaches, living their drab, miserable, pointless lives. Nothing outside their daily life even existed. It was wrong.

The bell rang, and everyone scurried away, off to their form class. I waited behind a little bit, as always, to let the majority of them in before me. In a noisy corridor, no-one can hear you scream.

When I arrived, my form tutor gave me an exasparated look, as always.

"Last in again, Jason? Sit down."

Her half-moon glasses seemed to be staring at me too, just as much as the gun did earlier. I remembered the gun and I had an urge to break those glasses with a bullet, shatter the illusion of everyday life.

Overall, a boring, typical start to the day. Nothing new, everything just the same as the previous ten years of my life. Coming in to school, sitting down, having the register taken. Every day, the same thing, people becoming comfortable with the repetition, the monotony of everyday life.

Was I the only one uncomfortable with the repetition? Probably.

Yet despite all of this, I knew this day would change, and that finally something new would happen. Something worth doing, something worth talking about, something worth killing for.

Was I crazy? Quite possibly. Then again, the whole human race is crazy, to an extent, to one degree or another. Is war not crazy? Was it not crazy to kill thousands of people to protect peace? Was it not crazy that most people didn't care about this? I think everyone is crazy, just everyone is crazy to a different extent. Each person has a level of insanity, some are low, some are high, some are about medium.

The bell rang, time to go to another class, no doubt the same thing we've been doing for weeks. It was an English lesson, studying poetry. I had always liked poetry, the individuality of the poems, the distinct writing styles, it all made poetry so much better.

Allow me to recite a poem for you.

I'd been tired, under
the weather, but the ansaphone kept screaming:
One more sick-note, mister, and you're finished. Fired.
I thumbed a lift to where the car was parked.
A Vauxhall Astra. It was hired.

I picked him up in Leeds.
He was following the sun from west to east
with just a toothbrush and the good earth for a bed. The truth,
he said, was blowin' in the wind,
or round the next bend.

I let him have it
on the top road out of harrogate - once
with the head, then six times with the krooklok
in the face - and didn't even swerve.
I dropped it into third

and leant across
to let him out, and saw him in the mirror
bouncing off the kerb, then disappearing down the verge.
We were the same age, give or take a week.
He'd said he liked the breeze

to run its fingers
through his hair. It was twelve noon.
The outlook for the day was moderate to fair.
Stitch that, I remember thinking,
you can walk from there.

As you can see, very violent and crazy, true, but also very distinctive. It seemed to me like a very good poem, so I had memorised it, just in case anyone was interested.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, English class. The study of poetry. The teacher called me up quite often, and today was no exception. Like I said, monotony, repetition. It bored me, bored me so badly. I just wanted the boredom to end. The same thing over and over again. It was driving me crazy. Not your definition of crazy, but mine. The boredom was making me sluggish, slow, and was taking the life out of everything. Everything was the same. The same uniform every day, the same lessons, the same people, nothing changed. I walked to the front of the class, gave my interpretation of the poem, and sat back down again. The same bored applause came from the class, the same one they always give when someone does something right.

Maybe I was the only sane one in the room. Everyone else had surrendered their individuality, and it was just too much to bear.

Two bullets ripped through my teacher's face.

Chapter 2

Variety hit the wall, changed the colour of the paint from a pale blue to a vibrant red. The smoking gun trembled slightly in my hands. The smell of the smoke was exciting, the sight of the blood, the gore, the variety. The teacher slumped to the ground.

The class was rapt, shellshocked by what had just happened. Their gaze and silence held, until one of them screamed. The class made their way to the door in hysteria, but I was already there waiting for them. I fired at the crowd of crazed students, enhancing their fear, and making them back away. I had control.

"Right, if any of you ******** wants to taste a bullet, then go ahead and try to get past me. Those of you who want to live, will go back to your seats."

The whole class, as one, moved slowly back to their seats, terrified by the threat of imminent death. I watched thm all, smelled their fear, almost tasted it, and walked to the front of the class. One of the students lay dead on the floor. Shaun, one of the big guys, no doubt he would've attempted to challenge me if he had lived. Quite fortunate he died, really...

Someone tried to make a break for the door, but caught a bullet by her head. A small trickle of blood ran down from a graze where the bullet had just missed. She stopped, held in place by the mesmerising fact that the bullet had came so close to her, and yet not killed her.

"You try that again and the next bullet will not miss, I guarantee it. Now why don't you come over here? Wouldn't want your pretty little face getting mashed up by the nasty bullet now, would we?"

She turned around, and I saw how lucky I was that I had missed just slightly. It was Emily, easily the most attractive in the class... She walked over and sat down. The blood made tiny rivulets down the side of her head, small dark streams of red. I couldn't help but stare...

"Right, well, you may all be aware that I seem to be somewhat insane right now, as I have just shot the teacher. However, there is still hope for you yet, as long as you do as I say. Don't do anything I wouldn't let you. Or, in other words, just don't do anything. Just stay still and quiet while I deal with any problems whatsoever. First of all, the blood running down Emily's face..."

I moved her hair, and licked the blood running from the wound on her head. The coppery taste stayed in my mouth as I held it there, savouring the flavour of her blood.

"Hmm... Nice. Not too bad."

Chapter 3

One of the guys stood up, outraged at me licking Emily. He earned a neat, round hole in his head. More variety on the walls. No more of the monotony on them. The guy was Dan, Emily's boyfriend.

"That is what happens to heroes here. No heroes, no deaths, it's that simple. If you so much as think about trying to take me down, I will kill you. Dan here is a prime example, aren't you Dan?"

Silence answered. I nodded as if agreeing with something, and smile gently.

"See? Dan understands."

The class sat in dazed silence. Outside was a roar of panic, the gunshots had been heard. Since the first shots, people had stampeded towards the exits, and now their fear made me happy. It was so nice to hear what was happening, people running scared, possibly being trampled. The younger ones would be more likely to go down first, I would not be the only one killing people today.

"So, before I continue with the day's festivities, I would like to tell you a story. It's the story of a young boy, who everybody hated. Then, something came into his life that made it all click together, caused it all to make sense."

I sat on the teacher's desk, eyeing her lifeless body, and grinned vacantly. The gun stayed pointed at the class, ready in case another hero tried to start something.

"But first, I want you all to do something for me. I want you all to get comfortable with death. True, it's something that we never want to happen to us, but it is going to happen. At some point, everyone here is going to die. Some sooner than others, some later, but in the end, death is inevitable. I want you all to become comfortable with that fact. I want you to accept that death will come to you, and that when it does, it is unavoidable."

The class sat in silence.

"Hey, Tom, come over here."

I pointed at Tom with the gun and motioned him over. He stood up nervously, and came forward.

"Come on, I won't bite. Come a bit closer. Good boy."

He'd walked right up to me and stopped.

"Open your mouth."

He opened it, and I put the gun barrel in. His eyes were wide with terror, sweat running down his face.

"Control yourself, be calm, i'm not going to shoot you. However, if you carry on like this, being scared out of your mind, then I just might. Come on, control yourself. I can practically smell the fear. It's almost like you just s**t yourself. Control it."

Chapter 4

"Okay, just so you all know... Anyone trying to escape will cause the death of Tom here. If anyone tries anything, i'll shoot him. I just might shoot you through him. So if you want to live, and if you want him to live, you won't do anything. Do I make myself clear?"

The class agrees, murmuring their compliance.

"Good."

Tom's fear seems to have increased, the idea of other people trying to escape and him getting shot as a result has terrified him.

"Come on Tom. Beat the fear! Beat it! Show me the survival instinct! Control your fear in order to live! Live, dammit!"

The gun was a Walther P99, my father had used it in his service in the military, and had never given it back. It held 16 rounds, 5 of which had been used, leaving me with 11. However, I had found some spare magazines at home, in the same drawer I found the gun in. 5 more, to be exact, which went in the bag with the gun, giving me 91 bullets left to use.

"Come on, beat the fear! You're supposed to be an example for the rest of these people! Come on! I don't want to be forced to kill you too. Come on!"

He tried to say something, but the barrel muffled his speech. I pulled the barrel out of his mouth and held it to his forehead.

"What was that, Tom?"

"Eat s**t and die..."

"Excellent, you've shown some form of mastery over fear. You can sit down. In fact, you can sit here, where I am."

I got off the table and motioned for him to sit down. He sat, and I grinned at him happily.

"Good boy. Now, I think i'll go and sit at a table, but i'll still have you all in my sights. Don't even think of disobeying me."

I walked over to a table in the back corner and sat there, watching everyone.

"Tom, you are to stay there for the duration of our stay here. If you move, i'll shoot you and prop you up. Lauren, I want you to close all the blinds. If you don't, then you die."

Lauren stood up, a short, pudgy girl with long dark hair. She walked over to the blinds and shut them all. My plan was working.

"Thankyou. Hmm... What have I forgotten? Ah yes, Emily. Come over here and sit next to me."

She walked over and sat to my left, tears streaming down her face.

"What do you want from me?"

"What do I want from you? Well, it's not necessarily you, is it? I've been kind to you so far. I've not killed you straight away, I cleaned the blood off your face, and I killed your boyfriend. You've always complained about him, haven't you? Well, I've been nice to you today. Although, i'll be honest, I didn't mean to miss you earlier. So, if that shot hadn't missed, then you wouldn't be complaining, would you?"

"No..."

"So what are you complaining about? Some people are so hard to please..."

Stop messing about...

"All in due time, my friend. All in due time."

I had only spoken in a whisper, barely low enough for myself to hear, but Emily had heard. She shot a worried look at me, she had known I was disturbed, but she hadn't known I talked to myself, heard voices. Demonic voices that whispered in the night...

Chapter 5

I was annoyed at this whole thing, the boredom of just sitting there. It had been 5 minutes since anything had happened.

"Hey, I think I'll tell you a story..."

Nobody objected... I said:

My earliest memory was being beaten by my dad. He had always hated me for some reason. He was an alcoholic, and on drugs most of the time. When he wasn't high, he was drunk, and vice versa. Every single time, he went into an uncontrollable rage, at me. This time, he was slamming my head off a wall, until I lost consciousness. It didn't take long. My sight went black after a few minutes of crying and pleading at him to stop.

I woke up in hospital a few days later, my mother had seen me and took me in, although she was no better, herself. She only wanted to save her favourite punching bag. It would be no fun if I didn't squeal.

For years it continued, until I was 7. My dad had gotten a new trick by then. He was a soldier, in the military, and he somehow managed to sneak his gun home. He used to threaten me with it every day, always making sure there was bullets left. He had soundproofed the walls and doors well enough so that the neighbours didn't hear my screams. If they did, then they would get an excuse of me being punished for being a bad boy. They had no opposition to that. Every day the gun would come out, and every night I would cry myself to sleep and have nightmares about catching a bullet.

There was no reason behind it all, no motive, no explanation. Dad would threaten to kill me, and my mam would just sit there and watch, laughing and occasionally getting up to kick me. Soon they tired of even this.

Their other thrills would come from mental tortures, the gun would still come out occasionally, but there were other things. They would force me underwater in a cold bath, full of ice. If I so much as dared lift my face out of the water, I would be hit. They would deprive me of sleep, make me stand in the corridor all night, away from the walls. If I dozed off, I would be awakened with a slap around the face.

They had broken me, I didn't dare question them, I didn't dare disobey them, and I didn't dare tell anyone. Not until now.

Why now? Because they are dead. Some form of help, inspiration came to me, and during one of my beatings, I passed out. Except this one wasn't a normal faint. When I woke up, my parents were both dead in front of me, and I had dad's gun in my hand. The magazine was empty. I had my back to a drawer, and when I looked inside it, there were spare magazines. 6 spare magazines.

"And that concludes the story of what happened to me before now. Any questions? Oh, wait, I have a few. First of all, when I came in bruised almost every day, why did nobody suspect anything? Why did nobody care? Why did you all make fun of me, even though you knew I'd had a terrible life?"

Nobody could answer. I glared at them all, nothing happened. I glanced at the clock. 10:50.

"Okay, somebody check through the windows. Tell me what you see."

Nobody got up, either because I hadn't told someone specifically, or because they didn't want to... The former was a more pleasing prospect.

"Okay, Lauren, you could do with the exercise. Look through the windows and let me know what you see."

She stood up, and waddled along to the windows. She looked through, and turned around smiling.

"The police are there, they're coming to take us away from here!"

"Not on my watch..."

Chapter 6

"Lauren, relay my message to them."

She looked at me, slightly dumbstruck. It didn't surprise me much.

"But first, Tom, catch!"

I threw him a toy gun, not too big, just an average toy. He caught it perfectly between his hands.

"Tom, I want you to go around the class with that, and pretend you're holding us all here. Only walk around occasionally, sit on the desk most of the time. If you don't do it, i'll kill you. Understand? Oh, and act convincing."

He nodded, and started to walk around the room. He didn't know why he was doing it, but he was.

"Lauren, before you talk to them, put the lights on, it's too dark in here. I can barely see what's going on."

I could see perfectly, it was just an excuse to put the lights on. She didn't question it, even though she knew it wasn't dark in the room, the blind let light through well enough. Unquestioning obedience comes in the form of a gun, it seems.

"Now, Lauren, I want you to relay this message to them. Tell them we have three dead bodies in here, and there will be more if they don't follow my instructions."

She nodded, and opened the window to shout to them. She told them my message, and a police officer braved the trip to the window to speak back.

"Is the gunman still here?"

I decided to reply this time.

"Yes officer, he is."

"Who am I speaking to here?"

"Tom Stanford... He's threatened to kill us all, and he shot Miss Mckean, Shaun and Dan... We need help! We need to get out of here!"

The officer seemed scared. Good. Maybe he wouldn't notice how calm I sounded... Hopefully someone would notice the silhouettes on the blinds.

I pulled up the gun to point at Tom, and whispered to him quietly enough so that the officer wouldn't hear.

"Tom, shout at us. Shout at us now or die."

He had broken out in a sweat again, and this time he seemed to lose his voice. I hit him in the knee with the pistol, and he grunted slightly. I moved the gun to point at his groin.

"Shout. Now."

He shouted at us.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! DON'T TALK TO THE POLICEMAN ANY MORE, ONLY LAUREN WILL SPEAK! UNDERSTAND?"

His lines were directed by me through stage-whispers, and he sounded convincing enough. Lauren turned around and told us all that the policeman had gone.

Now was when it would all get interesting...

"Okay, no more need for me to whisper or speak through my dear friend here. What we're going to do now is wait. In silence. Tom, every now and then I want you to speak to Lauren, telling her what to do. I'm going to write a list of commands down on a piece of paper, and I want you to follow them to the letter, understand? If not, then you die. It's a simple enough principle. Obey me and live, or disobey me and die. Have fun."

I picked up a pen and tore some paper from one of my school workbooks, and began to write.

I'm glad you liked it, I really loved writing it, and I do have a large storyline set up for it, i'm just trying to work ahead to the next bits.

As I said, very glad you liked it, and i'll have new chapters up relatively quick. Watch this space.

Here's chapter 7.

Chapter 7

I passed the note to Tom, and he read it silently, as instructed. The note read:

Tom, you have shown mastery over fear in the face of death, and now you must do it again. After you circle us a few times, I want you to look through the window. Just a peek, then wander around again. Repeat this process. Keep the toy gun hidden from them at all times. I'm watching. If you show them that it's a toy, then you die. I also want you to tell the officers that you will start killing hostages. Tell them through Lauren, keep the gun pointed at her as she walks to and from the window. I may be crazy, but I can think more clearly than you know. If you make a single mistake, you will die. Eat this note when you finish reading it and the message has sunk in. Good luck, you'll need it.

He looked at me, then back at the note, and to me again. I nodded. He rolled up the note into a ball and put it in his mouth, then picked up a water bottle from the table, and swallowed the note along with some water. He grimaced, but did as I said.

My plan was working, I had them under my control... Tom wandered around, and kept the gun pointed at us all, then he walked to the window. He lifted the blind slightly and peered out. Perfect.

A bullet whizzed through the window and through Tom's skull. Brain matter exploded onto us all, covering us with gore. Yet another change to ourselves. What was once a boring white shirt now had random patterns of blood on it. The bullet that hit Tom kept moving and embedded itself in a wall.

Everyone screamed, and I smirked slightly, knowing what would happen next. Any second now...

The police charged through the door, and tried to round up the others. I fired a shot from under the table, and hit one of the officers in the leg. They had massed in, it would be hard not to hit them. They had no armour, and clearly expected an easy run once the 'gunner' was dead. The officers froze. None of them were armed, and now they too were defenceless.

"Welcome, gentlemen, to the carnival of blood and terror that is my English class. Please, sit down. There shall be entertainment to follow. Lauren, relay this message."

Lauren got up yet again, and moved her fat arse over to the window.

"Lauren, tell them that I now have seven police officers here with me, and I have them under control. It looks like one of these was the chief. Looking to claim some glory by rescuing some kids after the 'gunner' was killed. What a hero. Also tell them this, that unless my demans are met, I shall kill a hostage every five minutes, starting from... Now."

I got up out of the chair and fired point-blank into the face of one of the officers. I grabbed the corpses hair and lifted him up, then hung him on one of the coat hangers like a grisly decoration. Ten rounds left in the gun...

She shouted to the officers, and told them my message. She told them that I had killed an officer, and was just waiting for them to comply.

"Lauren, tell them my demands. I want every officer out of the area, I do not want a single policeman within a mile of this building, and they must not be waiting for me. I also demand a vehice waiting outside the school, and it must be clean. No bugs, no cameras, no bombs. I want this done in 5 minutes or another hostage dies."

I see that your taste of literature are the ones that hold disturbing articles about such troubling matters, and are much rejected in common texts. Bravo. You have captured my attention within this story, and in a few years, I won't be suprised if this novel will appear on my bookshelf one day. Love this story, and please continue on.

I'll be honest. I like it. Not in the sense that I like the fact that he decided to shoot people. (Though I find it funny in a kind-of twisted way of humor.
i've always had a soft spot in my heart for books such as this, with the disturbing story. To emphasize the words of Ebony the Peacian Vampire It makes you think about how you treat others; their mortality, and humanity.
All in all 8/10 from me.
The only real qualm I have is that it isn't finished.
It has me enticed; I want to see the rest...

Whoa. You're a very deep, emotional writer. I'd love to hear more.
But first; may I ask if you've had a life like that? Or are you just an amazing writer? I write a little about abuse myself; and I'm working on making my stories better; if you wouldn't mind giving me a few tips. ^^

I won't steal anything; I promise ;3