“F***, f***, f***! What do I do?”
“Nothing? I can’t do nothing!… Look at me!”
The girl in the black dress stared at the boy in the white shirt with the gun in his hand and the blood on his face.
“You look fine, come on let’s go. We’ll miss the speech.”
The boy stared back at her with a horrified expression.
“Are you crazy?”, he said. “I’m not going back out there!” Then he looked at himself in the mirror and burst into tears again. The girl followed him, the clicking of her shoes resonating in the bathroom of the rented club. It was prom and Tom had just killed the beauty queen.
The girl sighed and thought about all those times friends had called upon her to clean s*** up for them. She was the helper. She would always make things better.
“Sarah, what do I do?”
“Nothing…”, Sarah eyed Tom one last time before she turned to leave. “Take your shirt off.”
Tom nodded and started u********* hurriedly.
By Sam Wasserman, 17, BBS, Berlin, Germany