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A Broken Family, A Broken Heart.
Tara, 12-16, Drama, 3 min.
I don't think my wounds will ever heal. (Looks up) I have plenty of them. On the outside, AND the inside. I never really knew her, yet I loved her. My mother never loved me back, though. I adored my father too. Unlike my mother, he was always around. It seemed like he always had time for me. Mother was always away, burying herself in work or out with some guy. My father knew about these strange men, but loved my mother far too much to do anything about it.
Sometimes Mother brought them over when she knows Father won't be home. She must have had hundreds of them. I knew she was unfaithful, and yet, I could not help but admire her. Her beautiful golden curls were soft and silky to touch. Her face perfectly symmetrical. She was forever confident, forever decisive. I wish I were more like her. (Tears roll down Tara's cheeks) But now, all I have left to admire are her old photographs, all with a different guy in them. I think Father is going crazy. He can't stand the thought of life without her. He says he's going to commit suicide. I know he won't go without me, though. I understand how he feels. It was so horrible.
That man was so scary, with his tattoos and piercing. I think Mother was secretly afraid of him. If you had seen him, you would've been terrified too. He always beat her, always shouted at her. He threatened to kill her if she ever dared leave him. I always hid in my room when that man came over. He didn't know about me and Father. Mother didn't tell him. She never tells any of them. That day, she brought him home and he saw us, Father and I. (Dramatic Pause) He used our chopper.
(Eyes flaring, angry and defensive, fists balled, jaw clenched) (Hisses) You think Mother is an idiot. You think Father should have left her ages ago. (Screams madly) I just KNEW it! Everyone says that! None of you get it! She was the greatest mother in the world! And the most beautiful by far! You're all just jealous! (Tara's voice suddenly drops to a whisper) You're all just jealous...

Cold Blooded Murderer
Elizabeth, 15-17, Drama, 3 min.
You want to know, I suppose, what turns a nice little girl like me into a cold blooded murderer. You want the truth? You want to know why I did it? Why I killed all those girls? It's because I like it. I don't expect you to understand what it's like. You have no idea. To hold someone's life in your hands. To be in control.
There's always that moment of acknowledgement between a killer and their victim. That instant when she realizes your power, and she looks at you and you look at her, and she pleads with her eyes. She begs for mercy, for her life. And you have a split second to decide: To save her, well that's great. You could give her, her life back, give her back to her family and friends, the people that love her. But to kill her... That's something different. To remove her from this earth, to take away the thing that most value above all: Her life. Now that's real power. None of these girls deserved their lives. Look at them! The musician, the actor, the writer, the dancer, the artist, the model. None of them appreciated what they had. They were the best. And that meant nothing to them. I've never been the best. Always smart, but never the smartest. Pretty, but never the prettiest. Talented, but never the most talented. But despite all this, I always thought I was special. I thought there was something inside me, lurking within, that would make me great. I've never been content with the idea of simply living my life, dieing, and being forgotten. That's just not me. I want to be remembered for my achievements. And I will be, won't I? sure, you're disgusted by what I've done. You're horrified, you think I'm a monster. But I can guarantee that you're not going to go home to your boring lives and just forget me. Oh no. I'm willing to bet I'll be on your mind for quite some time.
I used to think I could find other ways to be recognized. I wanted to be famous for a while. But then I realized how stupid that is. People would want to be me, without really knowing what that means. Then I thought of being a lawyer... Me! I thought, 'if I save lives, people will worship me.' But I realized, not long ago now, not long before I killed for the first time, that saving people isn't enough. I could save the lives of one hundred people, and they would be grateful, and so would their families and friends. But what about everyone else? They'd see me on the news and think, 'Huh. That's nice.' Then change the channel to something else. But what if I killed just one person . and not just kill them, brutally murder them. With my bare hands, staring them right in the eye. Not for revenge, not for personal gain, because I like killing. People would pay attention then. The whole world would stop, with me in the center. Everyone looking at me.
And I know what you're all thinking. I can see the looks on your faces. You think I'm just an attention seeking little kid, but I'm not. I just want someone to notice me. All my life I've stayed in the background. There's always been that one student who gets better marks than me, That one teacher who makes me feel stupid, that one friend who always shuts me down, that one parent who's not interested, that one sibling who overshadows my achievements with theirs. And nobody even cares. I just want you to think. And don't act like this doesn't apply to you, sergeant, cause it does. You're just the sort to do it. You've done it to me... Next time you're going to put someone down, point out their faults, make them feel stupid, be-little them, think about me, then think about them, and what they could do to you. How much would you respect them if they had their hands around your neck, and they had the choice: To release their grip on your throat, or to just keep pressing. Think about it.