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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2206789
Some people are deeply disturbed... 432 words
Richard watched her lips form the words as if the event were occurring in slow motion. He knew what she was going to say, in the middle of the aisles of cubicles, but he asked anyway.

“NO!” Lucy said. “I’ll never go out with you, Richard.”

There it was. There it always was. The answer was the same every time. He was hoping it would be different this time, that she would be different. But she had said no, just like all the others. He wanted someone to love, someone to whom he could make love. But they never wanted him.

She had seemed kind, but it was just an act. When he wanted her to be kind to him, she wasn’t kind anymore. She was like all people—acting civilized, acting kind. But people weren’t kind. They were selfish. They were self-interested. They were cruel.

Richard was tired of their cruelty. He was tired of the lie of kindness, the lie of civility. He wanted to rid the world of these people, to clean up God’s mess. God spoke of love, but he had created hate.

That’s why Richard had brought the gun. He had intended to use it when she rejected him. He would kill her, kill everyone around him. He would purify the area, then he would kill himself. He was a cruel person too, just like the rest. He deserved death as much as they did.

Lucy was worse, though. As he watched her eyes, they told him everything that he needed to know. She was a cold-hearted bitch, not a purifier like him, but cruel. Her eyes told the story. They scared him. She needed to die.

The gun went off and blood splattered the walls. Three more shots rang out. With the last one, Richard collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap. His eyes were fixated on Lucy’s, the eyes that had made him afraid.

Lucy dropped the gun she had drawn from Richard’s pocket, letting it clatter on the ground. She smiled the cruel smile of a joyful killer, knowing that the incel would be the one blamed. She would be credited for saving the crowd, for wresting the gun from his grasp. Once they found the suicide note she had seen on his desk, written this afternoon, before he had approached her. It was her opportunity to see what it was like to kill a man. In the open. And she wouldn’t even be blamed.

She considered for a moment as people shouted and screamed and called the police. She decided that it was fun, putting four bullets into a man and watching his blood decorate the walls. She would have to try it again sometime. After all, there were plenty of incels around these days for a serial spree...
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