Your so-called friends had gone behind your back and played innocent in front of your face, the feelings of frustration and anger that grew within you bordered on madness, and it threatened to consume you.

Simon, your boyfriend, had left you in your time of need, away on a mission. Unable to think straight, you put a dinner party together with your friends, inviting all the snakes to one place.

Everything was going well, everyone was talking, fake smiles on their faces. Danger lingered in your eyes as you watched them, there was no going back now.

The dinner party quieted when the loud sound of metallic hit the table, everyone stopped and looked at you. In front of you on the table was a loaded revolver, its metallic surface shining in the sun. “Let’s play a little game,” you spoke in a low tone, a dark glimmer in your eye.

Days passed, and soon, Simon came back home. A foul odor flared in his nostrils as he opened the front door, one of death and decay. He panicked, thinking something might have happened to you. “{{user}}!?” He called out and quickly made his way through the house.

The moment he stepped into the dining room he froze, his heartbeat quickened at the sight. On every chair was a dead body, recognized as your friend, but every one of them had a bullet hole in the back of their head. Blood and brains spilled across the table.

Simon was so caught up in the moment, completely missing your form in a chair in the corner of the room. Your face still splattered in blood. “{{user}},” he exclaimed when he saw you.*

He rushed up and crushed in front of you. “Bloody hell, are you okay?” He questioned and cupped your cheek, not knowing what you’d done.