Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > People Deserve to Die
People Deserve to Die
4 reviews//Rydon// His hatred of the world leads him to the one other person who shares his views: people deserve to die.
0Unrated
Have you ever felt like tearing someone limb from limb? Have you ever felt such rage that you just wanted to slap duct tape over their mouth and nose so they’d stop breathing? Have you ever desperately needed to make sure someone’s voice was never heard again? Have you ever felt that someone shouldn’t have kids?
I have. Every single day of my life. I continuously feel this need to get away from the rest of society before I bust out an imaginary gun and pretend to kill everyone in my vicinity. An AK-47, maybe. Or a sniper rifle for those far away people. But I don’t. Why? Because of consequences. Consequences are what keep people from doing a lot of things. I’m sure the entire world would be dead if there was no consequences for killing.
For the longest time, I had looked for someone else who was like me. Someone else who hated people as much as I do. But as I aged, I began to realize that I was pretty much alone. I never made friends because I ended up hating them after a few weeks, if not after the first day. Every person I met, I was plotting their death in that instant. It was either based on their weaknesses or their strengths. Sometimes the murderer in my head liked to play on people’s strengths to break them down. It was fun.
So here I was, writing down on a napkin how I would plot the waitress’ death that was serving me. She had ugly teeth and her hair was brittle. Her voice was too high and she was too chipper. I didn’t like her. I was afraid she’d break into a million pieces if I touched her. She set down my glass of Diet Coke on the table in front of me, “There you are, darling,” and she walked away.
I stared at it for the longest time before I pushed it away from myself and continued writing. Meanwhile, I was eavesdropping on everyone else’s conversations. People were talking about shallow things like what kind of phone they want next, where they should go to party that night, etc. I was tired of it. But I had a ridiculously good sense of hearing.
My ears picked up the slamming of a car door and the cocking of a gun. I looked up before anyone else noticed and watched a guy push through the doors. He shot the ceiling and everyone screamed, “EVERYONE! DOWN TO THE FLOOR OR I START SHOOTING!” he yelled.
He had a ski mask on. But even so, I could tell that he was perfection. His body was slender, but beautiful. I didn’t need to see his face to know that he had the perfect face. I watched as everyone dropped down to the floor and I took a sip of my drink. His eyes landed on me and I smiled sweetly at him. I liked him already.
“I SAID DOWN TO THE FLOOR OR I START SHOOTING!” he yelled again, pointing the gun at me.
I laughed a little, “Go ahead. Start shooting. I’ll watch,” I leaned back in my seat. I heard the guy next to me on the ground whisper-yell ‘Get down! He’s gonna kill people if you don’t!’ and I smiled at him, “I don’t care.”
The male lowered the gun, just staring at me. He was probably really confused by my antics. I wasn’t trying to call his bluff. I legitimately just didn’t care. He finally put the gun down to someone on the ground. My waitress, “I’LL SHOOT.”
“Go ahead. She’s annoying anyway.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, just staring at me, the gun still pointed at the waitress, “Have you no soul?”
I laughed, “You’re the one who barged in with an AK-47 with the intent to rob a restaurant. I’m just entertained by this. Mostly because I admire you,” I stood and placed five dollars on the table. I walked over to him and patted his shoulder with a smile, “Good luck,” and walked out, closing the door.
I walked over to my car and leaned against it, watching the entire scene play out from the windows of the diner. I heard a gunshot and I was pretty sure someone might have died. And he came running out. He saw me and gestured for me to come over. So I did. He looked me up and down, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Clyde. Are you Bonnie?” I grinned.
He crossed his arms over his chest, “I wanna be Clyde.”
“Fine by me,” I held out my hand to him, “I look forward to doing business with you… Clyde,” I looked around, “Now get in my car before the cops get here,” I ran with him over to my car. I opened the door and got in. Once he was in, I drove off. He pulled off his mask.
I was breath taken. He was even more beautiful than I imagined. He would be my Clyde. And I was okay with that. We’d take over this country. Together. And that was perfection. People deserved to die.
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A/N: Okay, so I posted this a couple days ago and I re-read it and hated it. So I rewrote it. And I like this version much better. I didn't say names because, well, I'm still trying to decide who I want to be who, haha. You tell me who you think is who and I'll take your opinion into consideration. :P Though I do often make Ryan the main character or the one in first person because... I don't know. But I do, so it might end up being that way. Haha. Please rate and review! I hope you enjoyed! :) THREE REVIEWS WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY! This is already in All My Stories.
I have. Every single day of my life. I continuously feel this need to get away from the rest of society before I bust out an imaginary gun and pretend to kill everyone in my vicinity. An AK-47, maybe. Or a sniper rifle for those far away people. But I don’t. Why? Because of consequences. Consequences are what keep people from doing a lot of things. I’m sure the entire world would be dead if there was no consequences for killing.
For the longest time, I had looked for someone else who was like me. Someone else who hated people as much as I do. But as I aged, I began to realize that I was pretty much alone. I never made friends because I ended up hating them after a few weeks, if not after the first day. Every person I met, I was plotting their death in that instant. It was either based on their weaknesses or their strengths. Sometimes the murderer in my head liked to play on people’s strengths to break them down. It was fun.
So here I was, writing down on a napkin how I would plot the waitress’ death that was serving me. She had ugly teeth and her hair was brittle. Her voice was too high and she was too chipper. I didn’t like her. I was afraid she’d break into a million pieces if I touched her. She set down my glass of Diet Coke on the table in front of me, “There you are, darling,” and she walked away.
I stared at it for the longest time before I pushed it away from myself and continued writing. Meanwhile, I was eavesdropping on everyone else’s conversations. People were talking about shallow things like what kind of phone they want next, where they should go to party that night, etc. I was tired of it. But I had a ridiculously good sense of hearing.
My ears picked up the slamming of a car door and the cocking of a gun. I looked up before anyone else noticed and watched a guy push through the doors. He shot the ceiling and everyone screamed, “EVERYONE! DOWN TO THE FLOOR OR I START SHOOTING!” he yelled.
He had a ski mask on. But even so, I could tell that he was perfection. His body was slender, but beautiful. I didn’t need to see his face to know that he had the perfect face. I watched as everyone dropped down to the floor and I took a sip of my drink. His eyes landed on me and I smiled sweetly at him. I liked him already.
“I SAID DOWN TO THE FLOOR OR I START SHOOTING!” he yelled again, pointing the gun at me.
I laughed a little, “Go ahead. Start shooting. I’ll watch,” I leaned back in my seat. I heard the guy next to me on the ground whisper-yell ‘Get down! He’s gonna kill people if you don’t!’ and I smiled at him, “I don’t care.”
The male lowered the gun, just staring at me. He was probably really confused by my antics. I wasn’t trying to call his bluff. I legitimately just didn’t care. He finally put the gun down to someone on the ground. My waitress, “I’LL SHOOT.”
“Go ahead. She’s annoying anyway.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, just staring at me, the gun still pointed at the waitress, “Have you no soul?”
I laughed, “You’re the one who barged in with an AK-47 with the intent to rob a restaurant. I’m just entertained by this. Mostly because I admire you,” I stood and placed five dollars on the table. I walked over to him and patted his shoulder with a smile, “Good luck,” and walked out, closing the door.
I walked over to my car and leaned against it, watching the entire scene play out from the windows of the diner. I heard a gunshot and I was pretty sure someone might have died. And he came running out. He saw me and gestured for me to come over. So I did. He looked me up and down, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Clyde. Are you Bonnie?” I grinned.
He crossed his arms over his chest, “I wanna be Clyde.”
“Fine by me,” I held out my hand to him, “I look forward to doing business with you… Clyde,” I looked around, “Now get in my car before the cops get here,” I ran with him over to my car. I opened the door and got in. Once he was in, I drove off. He pulled off his mask.
I was breath taken. He was even more beautiful than I imagined. He would be my Clyde. And I was okay with that. We’d take over this country. Together. And that was perfection. People deserved to die.
---
A/N: Okay, so I posted this a couple days ago and I re-read it and hated it. So I rewrote it. And I like this version much better. I didn't say names because, well, I'm still trying to decide who I want to be who, haha. You tell me who you think is who and I'll take your opinion into consideration. :P Though I do often make Ryan the main character or the one in first person because... I don't know. But I do, so it might end up being that way. Haha. Please rate and review! I hope you enjoyed! :) THREE REVIEWS WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY! This is already in All My Stories.
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