I read my dead son's last diary entry and I went cold

Yesterday. June 14th.

My only son died in a train accident.

He'd said "I'm heading out!" and sprinted toward the station all excited and I had no idea. No idea that was the last time I'd see him like that. The doctor said when the train hit a sharp curve, he struck his neck on a metal part. Died instantly.

He came home without saying anything.

I cried in front of him.

He'd only been in high school for two and a half months. I raised him alone after the divorce. Just me. And he turned out so good, so hardworking. I don't know what pulled me in there but I walked into his room.

His desk was so neat. Textbooks and workbooks stacked perfectly. He slept in this room every night thinking about whatever he was thinking about, woke up every morning right here.

I spotted his diary on the shelf and picked it up.

Flipped through it. Found the entry from the day before the accident. I wanted to read the last thing he ever wrote.

June 13th.

"All preparations complete.

Modified model gun with increased lethality.

Improvised flamethrower.

Explosives I stayed up all night making.

Tear gas spray.

Jackknife.

Equipment is perfect.

All that's left is execution.

The guys in my class who bullied me, that fat teacher who ignored me... I'm going to sacrifice every single one of them.

That stupid mom who always peeks into my room. I'll kill her too.

Obviously I'll die too but I don't care.

Execution date: the day after tomorrow. June 15th.

I'll burst in during morning assembly and throw the bomb.

The ones rushing toward the exits trying to escape, shoving each other, I'll stab them one by one.

My heart won't stop pounding.

I can't stop smiling.

I can't stop shaking with excitement."

I felt my spine go completely cold.