Let's Go back To the Start...

Let's go back to the start. Although, looking back, it seems like the end should have been better. I should have stood on stage, in my cap and gown, just as I had imagined for the longest time with a smile on my face. Maybe because I was so focused on my goal I didn't realise that he could ruin everything. My perfect life had become ruthless and destructive in what I know now to be seconds. All it took was the first smile he gave me to forget how to do calculus or write a proper sentence. The talks then turned into dates amd one time I was even taught how to use a wrench.
So I became a different girl. My friends would look at me with disgust they didn't like what I had turned into. I started to skip classes and hang out with my boyfriend. He understood me. I didn't realise what I was doing when he told me his plan. I didn't truly understand until I was sitting in front of the detective, his pencil barely touching the paper as if waiting for me to explain. How could I tell him that I was innocent? No one would see me as the girl that I was in the beginning. In their eyes I was guilty. I felt as if I was locked inside a cage. I started to hyperventilate, the moment the tears started to flow so did the tears. I told him everything, how I was forced to do things with him, how at lunch he would take me to room 143, the empty classroom. I showed the detective the bruises o0n my body, and told him that was how I was punished when I didn't cooperate.
His pencil was flying across his page, he nodded for me to continue when I stopped. I found it odd that I felt lighter than I had before. Relief filled me but I wasn't done yet. He had to know about the plan. I was electrified and on edge when I explained how my friends had begun to treat me. How he would tell me that they deserved to die and one day when I was really upset, he came up with the plan. He said that horrible people like them should be killed and it was up to us to alert the world.
That night, he gave me a gun, and the next day when my friends showed up just like we had planned, it was a scandal all on its own. I did as I was told and took them to the room. When I saw the look on my friends faces as he pointed the gun at my friends I remembered the bruises and how bitter and mean he was. So then I smiled at him, even adding a winl and I pulled my own trigger.
The bullet hit him in the chest and he fell over with shock and then anger flashed in his eyes. Before I knew it I was being pulled out of the room, to safety by my true friends. When I finished explaining, I looked at the clock; my classmates were graduating at this very moment. The detective closed his book and sighed. Clearly, you'd feel the same had you been there at the beginning of the end.