"The new fad, it seems, with today's young people is that they can never be pleased with anything that is given to them," the professor kept droning on, making sure to make sure every money paying student of the renowned university hated themselves. At least, that was the plan anyway. Lately things at the college weren't doing so well. Groups of students would protest and riot in the name of unfair treatment towards them.
For decades the older generations have been trying to make their young fit such a precise mold that the children of their society no longer exist. They're simply just a by-product of strict beginnings, too afraid to be who they really want to be. "You young people think it's OK to disrespect your government that tries so hard to conform to the needs of everybody," lies.
It was clear that during this mandated assembly that all students were on the wavelength. They were going to take was coming to them, only to prove to the school that they didn't always need to fight back. "Are we seriously just going to sit here like waiting ducks?" Rosaline asked her roommate, who was seated to her left.
"That's what it looks," Meryll, her roommate answered. "It's ridiculous. All we've done is try to make a change."
"I know. We've been raised on the grounds of a hypocritical society. We try to do what they teach us, then later--now--we're punished for it," Rosaline whispered to her roommate. "I'm going to--"
Everybody was screaming. Hysterically screaming. A boy--no older than 23 or 24--had shot the professor. "Everybody stop screaming. I only did what you could only dream of doing," coming in behind the boy holding a gun was group of people of the same age wielding guns. "We usually don't like having to kill people, but we will. Rosaline Smith, come one down!" The boy mocked enthusiasm. "No?" The boy grabbed a student and held his pistol to her head. "You wouldn't want any blood on you hands would you?"
Rosaline's heart was racing faster than any Olympian ever could. She almost could controlled her body from standing and walking down the long aisle, turning around to wave dismally to her peers, and say, "Nobody has to die," she lightly placed her hand on the gun and lowered the hand of the man wielding the pistol.
"Rosaline Smith," he paused to remove the bullet from the chamber of the gun and place it back into the magazine, "we're going to get along quite well." The boy turned back to audience of college students, "I leave you with only committing one death and borrowing this mastermind of a girl," he put a hand on Rosaline's shoulder. "I bid you all farewell," lastly the boy flashed a wicked smirk and followed Rosaline and his goons out of the assembly hall.
