[ WP ] Two victims of bullying make a plan to shoot up their high school together . However , they both secretly plan to betray the other in order to become a hero .

Carl looked in the mirror and sighed, feeling the sharp pain in his ribs with every breath. The bruises were like patches all over his chest and torso, and dried blood still caked his face and his hair. `` I look so weak,'' he muttered, noting his thin, fragile body, his bones close to the surface. He went to take a shower, to get rid of as much evidence as he could before his parents came home. He hated their questions and their failed attempts at comfort. 
 
 Carl stayed in his room most of the evening. His parents had noticed some bruising on his face, but he told them he'd fallen off his bike, and they believed it. After that, he'd quietly slipped away to his room while they were watching TV. *They do love me*, he thought, *but they just ca n't really see me*. Reflecting over the past three years, and how everyday someone would call him names, push him into things, or humiliate him, Carl could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks. He did n't understand why people could do this to someone, to push them as far as he'd been pushed. Or worse, that people, teachers, can stand by and do nothing as they watch it happen. The tears subsided as his anger grew. *No*, he thought, his heart racing, *people ca n't get away with this. People get punished for the bad stuff they do. And when people are n't properly punished, this is what happens. The world should know by now*. Carl felt a tinge of sadness, thinking, *there'll be one more reminder soon*. 
 
 His phone rang, and he answered it immediately. Josh, his only friend. `` Hey, man,'' he answered, trying to sound fine. 
 
 `` Hey, Carl. You sound bad. Did they hurt you again?'' came the soft voice on the other end. 
 
 Carl could n't help but smile. Josh always knew. `` Yeah. But, you know, it's OK. I'm just thinking that it wo n't matter anymore... right?'' he added, nervously. 
 
 `` Yeah, yeah, of course. Tomorrow's the big day, dude. Tomorrow's the day we live forever.'' He paused for a moment. `` Everything's sorted out on my end, how about you?'' 
 
 Carl thought, ran through his checklist, feeling calmer with every mental'check'. `` Yep, all sorted.'' Then they said bye and hung up. 
 
 He sighed heavily, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He did n't know how he felt. He was angry that he'd been pushed to this point, and sad that he'd be putting innocent people through this. There was also the guilt, leaving his family behind to deal with their grief and confusion, and probably the anger that everyone would direct towards them. But it was n't their fault. They're good people and they'd raised him well. *Those parents, grief-stricken and aiming their anger at my parents*, he thought, *they should blame themselves. Maybe if they told their kids that bullying has consequences, they would n't be burying their children*. He felt the familiar weight upon his heart, sending butterflies into his stomach. It was excitement... and dread. Everything would stop tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the day he got his revenge, the day he can enjoy exacting revenge upon those who've made his life worthless, ironically by giving his final moments of life worth. And it'd be the day he dies. Carl tried not to think about that, but he was scared. He did n't want to die, but he could n't stand the thought of going to jail, seeing the faces of his family as they lived with the aftermath of the chaos he caused. He did n't have a choice, but he was scared. He wished there was another choice. 
 
 As Carl drifted into an uneasy sleep, he dreamt of the day's events; the good, the bad, the painful, the gruesome. In one of the dreams, he saw himself firing mercilessly into a classroom of people he'd shared lessons with. Blood soaked into the carpet, chairs and tables were overturned, screams filled his ears, and he was smiling. Then, out of nowhere, one of the students, much bigger and stronger than Carl, ran straight at him. Carl was knocked to the ground before he'd even had the chance to aim his gun. The guy picked up the gun that Carl had dropped, kicked him in his face, and aimed the gun straight at him. 
 
 He woke up, breathing heavily and unsteadily, sweat causing his pyjamas to cling to him. The dull, grey light of a rising morning was creeping through his curtains. *Damn it*, thought Carl, *I ca n't do this. Something's going to go wrong, I'm not strong enough. All it takes is one fucking person to tackle me, to catch me off guard*. He replayed the events of the dream over and over, until something clicked. It was the answer to everything. He did n't have to kill anyone. He did n't have to die. He did n't have to be remembered as a villain to live on. Carl could be the hero. He could be the good guy that saves the school, that saves his bullying tormenters, from the crazed gunman. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that it was perfect. The only downside was that it meant he had to betray Josh, the only friend he'd ever had. But Carl reasoned that he'd have more friends afterwards. *Besides*, he thought, *technically Josh is going to shoot up the school. Friend or not, I am saving people's lives*. He was convinced at that point. 
 
 Three hours later, Carl and Josh were at the school, each with firearms and ammunition on their person. This was it. They strode confidently through the corridor. For a moment they just stared at each other, a look of finality in their eyes. Then, with fierce determination, Carl screamed, `` Gun, he's got a gun! Everyone get out of here, he's got a gun!'' 
 
 The students that were littering the corridors looked confused, then panicked. Some had already run away, or run to warn others, and some stood uneasily, unsure whether this was a sick joke or not. 
 
 Josh looked shocked. `` What the hell are you doing, man?!'' he exclaimed. Josh pulled out his firearm, forgetting his own plan, overcome with betrayal and rage, and pointing it at Carl. Then the students all ran, screaming and yelling. `` After all we've been through together, you'd do this to me?!'' his hands trembled, but Carl took out his own weapon. 
 
 `` I just want to stop you from doing something terrible,'' he replied, `` And maybe be the hero while doing it.'' The two teenagers argued, shouting echoing along the corridor, while students throughout the school had heard what was going on, and were running to the exits or barricading themselves in classrooms, confused and scared. They waited for the sounds of gunshots or screaming or laughing to erupt, but nothing did; there was only silence apart from their rapid breathing and terrified muttering. 
 
 After what seemed like an eternity, they heard a single gunshot.
