I studied more about them. Straight shooting didn't interest me that much anymore even if it still relieved stress. I began to get interested in snipping... It was... Perfect. Just what I had been looking for. From the very start until the end, snipping was a great challenge. How to find the right position, the right place to not be detected or ambushed, choose the right objective, wait until it was a clean shot, move quickly without leaving traces of my presence... It was just a model rifle, I killed nothing, but the thrill was the same as if it was real.
At first I just... Did that, I mocked shooting, but the rifle wasn't loaded... Until I decided to try that too. Now, looking back I swear I don't know what got into me to think that it was a good idea, I would beat the hell out of the idiot I was back then if I could but...
[Another sigh.]
I shot at people... No, at children. Kindergarten kids that were on their way to school or playing on the park or doing errands for their mothers feeling proud of being so grown up. They all looked so... Innocent, so happy, having friends, having parents that showered them with affection, having a fun time at school and no serious exams to worry about. As long as they learned a single new letter it was enough to receive tons of praises and attention. And they still had tons of time to play and make friends. Despite being nothing but little kids, despite still wearing diapers... They had a happier and more fulfilling life than mine... And I hated them for it. So I played sniper with them, I shot at them, aiming for their diaper covered butts and chubby legs. They weren't real bullets, they didn't cause serious damage, just a few bruises at most and a good scare for the kids who didn't know what was going on and ran away scared and crying to their parents who didn't understand what was suddenly wrong with them and that only made the kids cry more.
I felt good causing that. Eventually, people realized what was going on and suddenly everyone was paranoid and worried and scared. "A sniper in the neighborhood!" "Our kids aren't safe!" No one knew it was me, no one found proofs of it but everyone tried to catch me. It wasn't a praise, everyone hated it, but it felt as if it was. It felt even better when I would be with my parents and they would discuss about it, all worried about the sniper... Not knowing that it was me. Not realizing that the model rifle they had got me for my birthday was the one firing those shots. They didn't even look at my face, because I was a good student, my grades didn't get lower so it was all fine for them with me. There weren't any problems with me for them so long as I studied. But they worried about the sniper. "Is it an adult or a young person?" "If it's a young person, maybe a teen? What kind of parents would a person capable of that have?" "Ones that don't pay attention to their kids." Hearing those conversations from my own parents felt great... Made me want to keep doing that forever.
Eventually kids weren't allowed to be alone, there were warnings all around, they weren't even allowed to play in the parks. They went from their schools to their houses. And wouldn't be allowed to play near windows or even in the school's courtyard... I couldn't shot at them anymore, but seeing their gloom expressions as they got dragged from school to their houses, as they were forbidden to do things and restricted more and more in an attempt to protect them. Still made me feel well. Their lives weren't something I had to hate anymore, I had more freedom than them despite the studies. And if people got relaxed I would do it again and the paranoia would start again... Until one day.
[action]
I studied more about them. Straight shooting didn't interest me that much anymore even if it still relieved stress. I began to get interested in snipping... It was... Perfect. Just what I had been looking for. From the very start until the end, snipping was a great challenge. How to find the right position, the right place to not be detected or ambushed, choose the right objective, wait until it was a clean shot, move quickly without leaving traces of my presence... It was just a model rifle, I killed nothing, but the thrill was the same as if it was real.
At first I just... Did that, I mocked shooting, but the rifle wasn't loaded... Until I decided to try that too. Now, looking back I swear I don't know what got into me to think that it was a good idea, I would beat the hell out of the idiot I was back then if I could but...
[Another sigh.]
I shot at people... No, at children. Kindergarten kids that were on their way to school or playing on the park or doing errands for their mothers feeling proud of being so grown up. They all looked so... Innocent, so happy, having friends, having parents that showered them with affection, having a fun time at school and no serious exams to worry about. As long as they learned a single new letter it was enough to receive tons of praises and attention. And they still had tons of time to play and make friends. Despite being nothing but little kids, despite still wearing diapers... They had a happier and more fulfilling life than mine... And I hated them for it. So I played sniper with them, I shot at them, aiming for their diaper covered butts and chubby legs. They weren't real bullets, they didn't cause serious damage, just a few bruises at most and a good scare for the kids who didn't know what was going on and ran away scared and crying to their parents who didn't understand what was suddenly wrong with them and that only made the kids cry more.
I felt good causing that. Eventually, people realized what was going on and suddenly everyone was paranoid and worried and scared. "A sniper in the neighborhood!" "Our kids aren't safe!" No one knew it was me, no one found proofs of it but everyone tried to catch me. It wasn't a praise, everyone hated it, but it felt as if it was. It felt even better when I would be with my parents and they would discuss about it, all worried about the sniper... Not knowing that it was me. Not realizing that the model rifle they had got me for my birthday was the one firing those shots. They didn't even look at my face, because I was a good student, my grades didn't get lower so it was all fine for them with me. There weren't any problems with me for them so long as I studied. But they worried about the sniper. "Is it an adult or a young person?" "If it's a young person, maybe a teen? What kind of parents would a person capable of that have?" "Ones that don't pay attention to their kids." Hearing those conversations from my own parents felt great... Made me want to keep doing that forever.
Eventually kids weren't allowed to be alone, there were warnings all around, they weren't even allowed to play in the parks. They went from their schools to their houses. And wouldn't be allowed to play near windows or even in the school's courtyard... I couldn't shot at them anymore, but seeing their gloom expressions as they got dragged from school to their houses, as they were forbidden to do things and restricted more and more in an attempt to protect them. Still made me feel well. Their lives weren't something I had to hate anymore, I had more freedom than them despite the studies. And if people got relaxed I would do it again and the paranoia would start again... Until one day.