Math, Math, Psychopath

[RePeate†]

Alex looked woefully at the large digital clock on the wall. He eagerly awaited it to cross the hour, as he stared blankly at the sheet of note paper on his desk. The teacher was going on and on about calculus, a subject Alex loathed but was forced to take as a University prerequisite. Good luck getting into any good course without calculus, he knew. The fact remained that Alex cared very little for math. It was one subject he struggled with often, mainly because he didn't care enough about it to pay attention to his teacher's lessons. The teacher asked the class a general question about quadratic functions. Alex sunk into his chair hoping not to be noticed, as the teacher proceeded to answer his own question. God he was bored. His mind wandered.

He hated school, and all the kids in his class were dicks. How he couldn't wait for graduation; never having to see any of them again. He'd start anew, make new intellectual freinds who knew nothing of his dorky and taunted past. Maybe he could re-invent himself as someone cooler at University. Become a phoney like everyone else. Maybe a fake jock, or a hipster who wore clothing actually in style, as opposed to the shit his parents always bought him to wear for school. The more he thought about it the more he resented his classmates for rejecting him. Anger brewed deep inside this one. Unchecked, it was the kind anger that spawned infamous school shootings that developed nationwide coverage.

The clock finally advanced past the hour. "Only a half hour to go" Alex thought to himself, "Then I can go home and play some sweet, sweet videogames". Any time Alex spent not at school was spent locked up in his bedroom on his computer. Perhaps that's why nobody liked him. It led to him being not at all well socially adjusted. He began doodling on his note paper for a few seconds, and that's when it hit him. Something wet struck him just above the right eye. It caught him offguard, but not the rest of the class who had most definately been anticipating the stealth attack. They bust out laughing mid-sentence of the teacher. Alex was flustered, and had no idea what was going on. He looked down at his desk and saw the waded spitball that had struck him laying on his paper. The class continued to laugh despite the teacher's pleas to "settle down". His face turned bright red as he realized he was once again the object of ridicule. "Hey look, he's blushing! What a loser!" boomed an unknown voice from the crowd. He just wanted to crawl off and die. The class ceased it's laughing at the teacher's beckoning, but not before the damage had been done.

Something in Alex's mind snapped. He began to operate on autopilot. He could see the students directly seated beside him staring at what he was doing, but he didn't care to pay them attention. He remained focused on the task at hand. His eyes were welling with tears he tried desperately to conceal under his furled brow. He went to work on his note paper. He began to write out a list of every student in the class, beginning with those seated nearest to him. The teacher paid him no attention and carried on with his lesson. But Alex had lost all thought process, and continued writing out names like a machine. Some students asked him what he was doing, noticing he was both obviously upset, and had just written their names onto a sheet of paper. He ignored them and kept writing. Some of the names he stared at for a few extra seconds, hate building behind his gaze. When the list was complete, he went down it with his pencil, scratching names off in a very menacing manner. With each name he scratched off, he visualized the student being harmed or killed in a very grusome manner. One student would be torn apart by wolverines, another would be struck violently by a bus. Some would be shot in the face, others vivisected by a knife-weilding Alex himself. Each name that was crossed off brought Alex a bit closer to sanity and relaxed him a little more... By the time class had finished, he was getting some very concerned lookes from classmates who could only imagine what he was thinking. As the list dwindled, Alex unwound, grabbed his books, and left his seat at the bell to go home to his precious computer.