Kamikaze

Her name was Lily, and she was the prettiest girl that you could ever have imagined. With long, lustrous, luminous blond hair, and magnificent cerulean eyes, that twinkled with everlasting joy. But that was not to be.
When Lily reached high school, her whole life changed. She had so many wonderful friends in elementary school and middle school. She was the popular girl, but not here. She tried her best to be friends with everyone, but people just seemed to hate her.
Everyday people would call her egregious names, push her against the colors, and once a girl even slapped her. It was all too much for a lugubrious Lily. She didn't know if she could handle the torment of pure everyday life.
She tried talking to her parents, teachers, and counselors, but nothing they seemed to do any good, if they did anything at all. She wept everyday when she got home, and lacerated her wrists. Not only causing more harm to herself, but bringing her self-esteem down.
One day, she grew tired of all the bullying and torture, and sick of the caterwauling, she gave up on everything. She did was she thought was best. She got out her razor from behind the toothpaste in her bathroom cabinet, and punctured her skin over and over again, everywhere, her legs, her arms, her stomach and her neck.
Soon, too soon, she began to see red; everything was red. All she saw was red. And then Death took her hand, and she left the loathsome life behind her, and went to a wonderful place where love was kind, and everything was good.

Shanghaied

     Pain. Sharp, persistant pain pierced his chest. Blood oozed from the wound, down his abs, and onto the floor. He screamed with fright and agony. The stench of blood filled the air. He was loosing blood, too much blood. He ran through the woods as fast as he could, but he wasn't fast enough. The culprit caught up to him in a matter of seconds. He didn't know what else to do, so he fell to the ground and screamed as loud as he possibly could until his lungs were on fire and his face was maroon. It was mid-afternoon, surely someone would be on a trail nearby and hear him.
     The huge barbarous man loomed over him as if he were Death himself. "What do you want with me?!" shouted Jack, as he was clutching his still bleeding wound.
     The beast of a man grabbed his collar and hoisted him in the air, "You." he snarled. His voice was deep and gravely. It reminded Jack of his Harley Davidson motorcycle, the sound the engine makes. It's a beautiful noise, but it certainly wasn't appealing in this mans hullabaloo voice.
     "Then why'd you shoot me?"
     "They said alive, your alive." And that was all the troglodyte said to him as hit him over the head with his abominable gun.