So, it has finally come to this. I was sitting in a pretty large room with a man in a white coat and a clipboard in one hand and his other on a red button which most likely called security, or the S.W.A.T. team, wouldn't be surprised. I wasn't exactly stable, but that wasn't my fault. You know that I think about it, the situation started out like this, but with my psychiatrist. Yes, now I remember, it was his fault. It was his fault, and I guess mine for not dealing with the situation. Let me give you some context.
It started out as one of my regular, weekly visits, but he decided to try something different. It was supposed to help with my emotional issues, like expressing them more and stuff. He said he was going to leave the room, and if I needed him he would be in the office down the hall, he left some pictures and said if I needed to break something that I could. Once he left I got up and saw the pictures. My seventh grade teacher, dead, my grandma, dead, Robin Williams, dead, my brother. Alive. I was confused, then I saw on the back on the picture of my brother that said some random words. I can't really remember them now, but after reading them I felt different. I looked at the pictures and felt immense sadness, then I looked at my brother's picture and felt furious. I ripped his picture and grabbed one of the pillows on the couch and screamed into it. I wanted to break something, I always want to break something, I realized. I looked at the lamp right in front of me and hesitated at first, but then I picked it up and threw it with all my might against the opposite wall. That was the first time I ever broke something on purpose, it felt amazing. I looked around the room and suddenly saw everything as how it would look if it was broken. I pushed down the bookshelf and then jumped on it, breaking it open. I flipped his desk, he took out his computer, smart. I even punched five holes in the wall and tore up his desk chair. It felt so good! I didn't want to stop, then I realized I didn't have to stop. I could keep breaking things, I smiled and broke down the door with my foot. I walked down the hall, but not towards his office, I walked to the exit a humongous grin on my face. Every door I passed I punched and left a decent sized hole. No one did anything until I kicked the door that led to the reception off its hinges. My mom stared at me with wide eyes, eyes full of fear. I didn't waver, I went around the reception tearing up chairs and punching the walls until someone stabbed something in my neck.
I woke up sometime the next day, a pain in my head and very hazy eyesight. I remembered everything, but I didn't have the urge to break anything anymore. I walked out of my room, how did I get home?, and before I fully emerged I heard my mom talking to my dad about how I was still going to school no matter what the doctor said. I could control it, I was capable. I didn't know what they were talking about, until I went to school. I said goodbye to them and went off to the bus stop. Everything went smoothly, until the only annoying kid at my bus stop called me a slut. Usually I just sighed and plugged in my music, but this time I got pissed. I was suddenly next to him and his neck was in my hand. I was pressing him against a tree and chocking him. When I realized what was happening I let go in shock and nobody talked to me for the rest of the time until the bus came. I was silent on the bus and for first period. I was okay, nothing was wrong I just… snapped. When second period came is groaned and got my stuff, I hated second period. The teacher was so intense and always called me out. Today was no different, except for one thing. The period started out normally, him calling attendance and then coming up to my desk if I had the non-existent notes we took on Friday. I said we didn't take notes that day and he laughed cruelly and said if I didn't have them, then I would have detention again. Normally I would've accepted the punishment and just bury my nose in a book, but today was not a normal day. I growled, very audibly, grabbed his stupid green striped tie, and smashed his head against my desk. I left a dent in my desk and in his head, he was also bleeding. I was suddenly very calm, I turned to my friend and told her to call the office. She did, her hand shaking the whole time, they answered and I said that they needed to send the nurse and Officer Olson to Mr. Gath's room. Then I turned around and asked Sam, the strongest kid in the room, to hold my hands behind my chair until they came. He obliged and the whole room was silent until the nurse and Officer Olson came in. The nurse very carefully tended to Mr. Gath and I asked Officer Olson to put his handcuffs on me.
That is pretty much how I ended up in this room. How I ended up breaking a doctor's neck, shooting a S.W.A.T. team officer, and killing about five other people. Whatever my psychiatrist did to me defiantly helped me expressing my emotions, but there is a reason I push them down and hide them. He found out yesterday, and today I ended up accidentally killing the president and dieing. I now haunt your computer, thank you for reading. Have a nice April Fools.