[ WP ] Write a murder from the perspective of a cheerful inanimate object

Doink! I let one go with the impact. It arced high. Rising then falling to the floor. Chased through the air by pretty red rain drops. This was strange. 
 
 
 There was no familiar feel of paper. The usual clunk of top meeting bottom was missing. No quick, careful curling and clasping of loose sheets. 
 
 
 I was open. Bottom arm flailing, swinging through the air. It was fun. 
 
 
 It's said that a change is as good as a rest. Well, this was intoxicating. 
 
 
 My top arm was gripped tight. The small, soft hand was a lot stronger than it looked. 
 
 
 It swung me back again. Higher and higher and higher. 
 
 
 Weeeeeeeeeee! 
 
 
 Then straight down. Slicing through the air. Fast and free. 
 
 
 Weeeeeeeee! 
 
 
 Screams and squeals echoed around the classroom. 
 
 
 Weeeeeeee! 
 
 
 Doink! One more of my little metal mates squeezed free as the top side of my top arm crashed to a shuddering halt. More red rain and I climbed again. 
 
 
 Weeeeeee! 
 
 Again! Again! Again! 
 
 Weeeee! 
 
 
 Then my bottom arm swung up. The small hand now grasped me top and bottom. I was closed. The swings were shorter. Sharper. 
 
 
 The bumps hitting my hinge. The impact was just as vigorous but the landing was somehow softer. The occasional red rain drop had now become a carmine cascade. 
 
 
 The squeals and screams had stopped too. Now the game was cheered only by the frantic, short breaths of the little girl holding me. 
 
 
 Her friend, the one who thought Niall from One Direction was ugly, lay still. Obviously, exhausted from the game we'd just been playing. She was slumped against the classroom cupboard. Sleeping. A red lake forming on the Formica flooring. 
 
 
 A sharp, shallow, intake of breath announced the teacher in the doorway. She looked white. Shocked. 
 
 
 An over-reaction, if you ask me. I know I'm not a toy. I'm for stapling papers together. Not for games. Never for games. But we were only playing... 

