Trapped - Original Writing

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Trapped - Original Writing I suppose I better tell you why I'm here. Since that's all you are interested in anyway. I'm not going to bore you with all the goddam details. I think you'll want to here from when I slashed every one of those goddam fancy black leather chairs in the common room. You know the school only bought them because they thought they were doing us a favour buying us absorbingly expensive chairs, there so phony. I bet they only got them to trick the inspectors into thinking that this school cared about its pupils. I didn't do it just so I could get at old Mr Hardy, the principal at Pency Prep High School. I liked the way it felt when you slowly pressed the knife into the leather watching the threads ever so slowly pop apart, it makes that wonderful satisfying popping sound as you run the knife down it. Then you watch the yellow stuffing ooze out of the crack I completely obliterated it. I don't know why but it sent shivers down my spine. I get such a kick from that stuff. Naturally they found out and sent me to the Mr Hardy's office. I practically knew him now I'd been set there so many times. The room was a large room with snow white walls decorated with pictures of old principals and such, I bet Mr Hardy didn't really want them there but it was a matter of courtesy, I guess, to respect those who went before him. Crap, that's just so phony. Anyway, there was a small wooden desk made from mahogany. I didn't fit with the room. It was so small, but that is Ok as Mr Hardy doesn't fit being principal, he was way too nice. I hated that. You have to be malicious to be a principal, he never raised his voice at you, just kept calm and reels of so many reasons why you shouldn't have done it. He is the kind of person that has a knack of making people feel guilty, I know that you make
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