Dah, dah, da-da dah....
It's easy, once you start. Just aim and pull the trigger. Pop, pop, pop. Getting the guns had been the hard part. Getting the nerve had been the hard part.
They're all so scared.
Tate's had a lot of bad nights. Long nights. Terror, pain, nightmares. Things he'll never be able to forget. His stepfather's kids, smouldering. The thing down in the basement. His brother dying upstairs, and nothing Tate could do about it. They didn't even know. Not until the ambulance came.
Is that what did it?
Maybe he started going crazy when Dad left. Maybe Mom drove him crazy. Maybe the house drove him crazy. Maybe he's snorted too much coke. Maybe he's always been this fucked up.
How many more people does he want to kill? How much time does he have before the cops show?
It's like a video game, only there's no big enemy to defeat at the end of the level, and he doesn't feel like he's going to lose anyway. Just blood, and screaming, and the smell of urine as people lose control in terror.
He's fought the monster for so long.
It feels so good to finally give in.
As he heads out of the library, he hears the sirens starting to wail. That's enough for this performance, he thinks. He wants to go home, wants to be there when it all hits the fan, when Mom finds out about that asshole Larry, about the school (how many were there? he's lost count), about all the shit he's done. Addy will be in the holding cell they call her 'special school,' she'll be away from it all.
If he makes it back to the house, he's all right. He can hang out with Beau and pretty Mrs. Montgomery. Hell, he'll live forever.
He dumps the empty semi-automatic in the bushes outside the school and heads home, whistling.