Forever Now.

Written in typing class in the 9th grade (1995)

It had been like this all day. The rain and the thunder. And the tears. The tears were falling from her eyes faster than the rain fell outside. These feelings were just too much. Cynthia didn't quite understand what it was she was feeling, for she had never felt this way before. Was it a broken heart? She couldn't be sure, but it felt like _something_ was broken.

 

Cynthia dried her eyes on the corner of her pillow and walked over to curl up in the window seat. The weather matched her mood. Yet, somehow, seeing the rain pour down on the world made her feel better. It was cruel, but the thought of all those ungrateful people being soaked as they ran from store to car, doing their Sunday shopping, brought a smile to her face.

 

"You deserve it, all of you!" Cynthia exclaimed with a slightly wicked grin, "What have I ever done to harm you? Why should I suffer and not you? Well, now you'll suffer too!"

 

With these words spoken into the window sill, Cynthia rose and crossed the room to the head of the stairs. Feeling full of energy and a little like a child, she slid down the banister. Upon reaching the lower level, she descended into the damp basement and ducked under the stairs to search for her desired object. Cynthia spotted it in the farthest, darkest corner, covered in thick layers of dust. This, however, did not stop Cynthia, for she had expected as much.

 

With her new-found toy in hand, Cynthia climbed both sets of stairs, entered her absent parents bedroom and opened her father's top bureau drawer.

 

"Aha!" Cynthia exclaimed to her image in the dresser mirror, as she slipped the small, but heavy box into her pocket.

 

Cynthia giggled as she left the house. She hardly even noticed the rain pelting down upon her and she was quite comfortable, considering the cool temperature the air held, for her mind was already thinking ahead.

 

Walking to the east, Cynthia was surprised to see someone she knew so quickly. It was Tom, the main cause of all her anger.

 

Once her target was spotted, Cynthia's hate grew to a point where it overwhelmed her. She lifted the rifle she had been carrying and loaded it with the bullets from her pocket. Raising the gun and taking aim, she fired it at Tom.

 

Perverse laughter filled the air.

 

The child inside Cynthia sank to her knees and cried.