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// 1. Where do I start 
// Story: Kill Me Now 
// by Golden Script 
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	“Where do I start?” I asked.

“From the beginning might be nice.” Said a voice to the right of me.

“Ok, I was born into a fairly wealthy family. But my parents were rich and snobby; I hated the way they acted, like they were the only ones that mattered, always blaming other people for their mistakes, always stepping on people, always just being complete and total douche-bags. I would always go around after them and apologize for their behavior like a mother does for its child. When they knocked some poor bloke on his ass, I helped him up. They were just so… *sigh* let’s move on, shall we?”

“Yes” the voice said in a tone that indicated that it was deep in thought.

“Yes, so when I finally would get away from those monsters to go to school I was treated like my parents treated others. The teachers never helped me, the kids always picked on me, I almost always got Cs or Ds with the occasional F. but my parents were too caught up in work to notice or care. So I just went on like that. When the time to pick my college came I chose the furthest thing from my old school I could find. I went from a huge high school in California to a college not even a fourth the size in Maine. This college was a low grade college that I knew nobody from any of my old schools would be at.

"The teachers were angels compared to my old schools because they didn’t think I had any affiliation with my parents. They didn’t know. For a while everyone was nice, until word got out that there was a super-rich snob on campus, I was there for so long that I had actually forgotten my parents all-together. But then I realized that my parents were the snobs and I turned to my room-mate and said in a voice that would only come from a scared child: ‘help’.

"A few minutes later my parents were at my door banging it with all their might. My room-mate was about to open it when I said this ‘I swear, you open that door, I will slit your throat in your sleep.’ To that all he did was grip his neck and stepped away from the door. I was so glad I had threatened his life like that, he wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t; because only a few seconds later they blew the door open with a small charge. The door flew off its hinges and hit the wall with such force as to kill a normal human. The door went straight through where my room-mate was standing. I didn’t expect them to use such force. They rushed in and grabbed me, they didn’t ask if I was ok, they didn’t ask if he was ok, they didn’t pay for damages, nothing.

"The entire ride home I was in shock at what my parents were willing to do to get me. This might seem like my parents care about me, they don’t, they were getting a ton of shit from the other businesses because some idiot leaked that their son was going to a school that was ‘smaller than the state of Rhode Island.’ This enraged them; they had thought that I was out at one of the expensive colleges that they had bribed to give their son a free scholarship. This had cost a lot of money and time to do, and I had ‘squabbled’ it all. They brought me home and forced me to go to Harvard to get a doctorate in engineering. I loved engineering but the teachers were being evil. When I made something really breakthrough, they either passed it off as their own or destroyed it completely. I hated the cock-suckers.

"I kept schematics and designs in my room where they were safe from prying eyes and those with bad intentions. This though couldn’t last for my room-mate there could be bribed to do anything if paid enough. Like any human being. He basically gave his key to one of the teachers that broke in and stole the papers. When I got back an hour later and noticed that they were gone I asked him what happened. He pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about. I asked him where all of my schematics and plans were. He told me he didn’t know. I admit that wasn’t a total lie, they could be on their way to my parents or being burnt in the parking lot. I was furious. That weekend I literally went and bought a safe for my papers, lesson on how to use a handgun, and a 686 S&W. none of this was cheap so I used the card that my parents gave me for food and stuff. I didn’t use it unless I was in trouble or I wanted to get something I couldn’t afford.

"I never used the gun and hoped I didn’t have to, but as the years went on it was getting harder and harder not to whip it out and blow someone’s brains all over the pavement. I don’t know how but I got through college without committing murder or seriously injuring anybody. I went to live in Maine again, try to find any of my old friends. They were all gone. Never saw them again. You see, this was extremely tragic to me because while I was in Maine I had become fond of a girl, she was beautiful, nice, funny… just perfect. A few days before I was taken I found out the feelings were mutual. This news had sent my emotions skyrocketing, I was then taken from Maine and forced to live in L.A. for the next twelve years to get a PhD. As you can only imagine, people change in six years, a lot. So when I finally got back to Maine the first thing I did was look for her, and what I found crushed me beyond the bounds of sanity… I don’t want to go into detail in what happened, but it just crushed me. And just a few weeks after learning this, I attempted suicide.” This is where my story starts, with me in my small apartment, staring at my gun, thinking of how great life would be if I just blew my own brains out.

It was an early spring morning the sound of birds sounded through the air, the crisp wind blowing through my hair. And all I could think of was how I was such a burden to everyone. My parents won’t have to deal with the criticism of having an embarrassment of a son living in a small apartment in Maine. Personally I liked Maine. It was quiet, nice, and all of my best memories were here, the memories of my first college. I turned around and leaned back inside the window. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t have a good job, unless working at the local McDonalds was great. I didn’t have anything of value, save the safe that holds all I held dear. I looked at the safe. When was the last time I opened the thing, besides putting in or taking out papers I was working on for my jumpstart career.

I opened the fairly large safe. And looked at the drawings of trinkets and engine parts I drew when I got bored. I pulled out the drawer below it, this action reveled the few pictures of me with my true friends, just laughing and having a good time. The next drawer held the few childhood items that were dear to me; I saw a pictures of the first car engine I made from scratch, my bass from strings class at school, my first turntables, and many other things that brought small joys to my aching heart. I pulled on the last drawer, this drawer held a small black box with a small metal lock on the front. I pulled out the small black box, I pulled the key from my key chain and unlocked it, there, in the box, sat a shining revolver, this revolver would be my way out. And I know, I know, ‘suicide is never the way to go’ but I was in a situation that didn’t end, just more misery. So I decided then and there that I was going to end it all in a week, when I turned 21.