"Revenge was something we always had in common, and we got it, baby."
I stood still, looking at you. I wasn’t scared. I was intrigued.
The teachers, all the guys and their fake bitch girlfriends lay unmoving on the floor with fresh bullets in their skulls. Too bad they were dead. I would have loved to see them scream over their ruined hair and dresses.
Nothing gets blood stains out.
You killed them all. Every single one.
Except for me.
I slowly approached you from across the hall, avoiding the bleeding corpses, standing out in my black dress against the pink and white decorations which were now joined with the splatter of blood. The music had stopped when one of your bullets hit the speakers, then the DJ. You kept looking at me in the strangest ways, never looking at anything else. As I stood before you, I took your hand in mine and smiled.
You see, anyone else would have screamed at you for what you’d done. They would have run away and called the cops, telling them you were insane; but not me. It was something I appreciated with all of my heart.
You held my hand tighter, and led me toward the stage where the DJ was once standing, still giving me that strange look. I remember frowning at you and wondering what you were doing, but then you reached for the silver tiara on that stage and my smile returned. When you placed it on my head, you left the softest of kisses on my cheek.
Congratulations, prom queen, you whispered.
“Gerard...why me?” I asked you, “Out of everyone, why me?”
I can’t take my eyes off of you.
I still don’t understand why that one line got me. After that, I was entirely yours.
Yeah, maybe we were both a little messed up, but seeing you put all those clones in their graves was one of the most romantic things I’d ever seen. We walked out of there, hand in hand, the blood on our shoes left faint footprints on the ground.
I wonder if they’re still visible, because I know I haven‘t gone back to that place ever since.
You dropped me off at my house and left me with a classic kiss goodnight in my doorway. I remember how I sighed as I watched you walk off down the street. My parents asked me how the night went, clearly concerned because I attended without a date, and I said it was amazing because I was dropped home by one. They just smiled and nodded, never suspecting a thing.
Revenge was something we always had in common, and we got it, baby.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.
They found you two days later.
They found you and knew exactly what you did, and they took you away. Away from me. I ran to your house just in time to see them taking you to the car, and you just smiled at me. You smiled and told me to make sure they didn’t get me too, and that everything would be okay.
I believed you and kissed you before they pulled me off and took you away.
I was angry for a while. Angry because you didn’t even try to cover up what you did. You pleaded guilty and with the bang of a gavel, you were gone. I cried when I got home. Claiming that you were a fucking hypocrite over and over again into my pillow.
I still don’t know why you did it.
I know you were proud, but it wasn’t worth us being apart.
What makes me angrier is that I can’t tell you I’m angry. They won’t let me visit you. They keep telling me you’re crazy, and I keep telling them they’re wrong. You’re just misunderstood. It’s a huge difference, but no one else sees it, and I don’t know why.
My parents think I’m insane too, but they’re too gutless to lock me away the same way they did to you. Something about me still being their ‘precious little girl’ or something. But I don’t give a fuck.
So, I just sit here on my bed every day waiting.
Waiting for someone to understand. Waiting for a breakthrough of any kind.
Just waiting for the day I can see you again because I need to.
I'm your Prom Queen.