Bullet in the Brain (Alternate Ending, Version 2)

By Maggie (Age 13, Hong Kong International School)

Editor's Note: This is an alternate ending to Tobias Wolff's short story, "Bullet in the Brain". 


We walk into the room. Instant terror washes over the crowded bank. Eyes widen as they begin to notice the pistol I'm gripping. A trembling guard mumbles some incomprehensible words, his eyes tightly shut. He was clearly terrified of my hand on his shoulder. I point the pistol to his neck, and the feeling of adrenalin bursts within me. As always, I welcome the feeling as if it is a member of my family. This feeling is so familiar. It's like a best friend I grew up with, never leaving me, always bringing out the best, and worst, of me.

"Keep your big mouth shut!" I yell, noting that the remark was unnecessary. "One of you tellers hits the alarm, you're all dead meat, got it?" I wince as I realize how cliche my last statement was. My partner looks at me with a confused look, and it was clear that on the inside, he is laughing, mocking my petty threat. A man in line makes a quick remark about the phrase "dead meat". Part of me wants to shoot him right then and there, but I have to stick to the plan.

Handcuffing and pushing the helpless guard to the ground, I clutch the collection of hefty bags that will soon hold our money. I begin to pass a hefty bag to the tellers, commanding them to fill them with money. I make sure to swagger as  I walk, to show off my confidence and my superiority. The rush of actually robbing a bank used to freak me out, but now I'm used to it. I start to walk with a skip in my step, a slight smirk on my face; everything is going according to plan. My slight smile disappears as I come to the last slot, which is empty. This could take more time and more time means more reinforcements.

"Whose slot is that?" Impatience comes through my voice as I shout across the building.

"Mine," a shaken up lady manages to croak.

"Then get your ugly face in gear and fill that bag!" I bask in the realization of how much power I currently have. I can insult someone and they can't do a single thing.

The same obnoxious man makes another remark to the lady standing next to him. "Hey! Bright boy! Did I tell you to talk?"

"No," my gun clearly doesn't threaten him.

"Then shut your trap."

"Did you hear that?" he says, starting to anger me. "Bright boy. Right out of 'The Killers.'" The woman next to him mumbles something to him, probably a warning.

I walk over to him, warning him to keep his mouth shut. I can tell he is laughing on the inside. I can't stand being laughed at. I push the pistol to his gut. Then, everything happens so fast. He grabs my arm with surprising force, twists it, and takes the gun. The feeling of power washes away and shifts to the man with the gun.

He points the gun straight between my eyes, but clearly he doesn't know how to work it. I hide my fear with a petty laugh, but everyone knows I'm terrified. The man attempts to put the safety on, but instead pulls the trigger. The bullet crashes through my skull, right between the eyes.

It seemed like time slowed down. What felt like an hour was really a few seconds. I could feel the unbearable pain, the harsh voices around me, but slowly, they both faded, and a new setting appeared.

Three boys hanging outside the local drug store, showing all the other boys how cool they are. And a little boy; one would never guess that he would grow up to be a bank robber. The way the boy gazed at the other boys, it was clear he idolized them.

Then a petite young woman, frail and helpless, hobbles across the street with a purse clutched in one hand. The boys turned to each other and started to plot.

"Hey, we want you to go up to her and take her purse," the oldest boy gestured to the little boy, then to the woman.

"No way, that's mean."

"You want to be in our group, right?"

"Yeah," there was no hesitation in his response. He longed to be one of them.

"Then you gotta do it. You're not chicken, are ya?" the oldest boy taunted him.

"No! I just think it's mean, is all. If you're so brave, why don't you do it?!"

"Fine, I will! Watch how it's done," the eldest boy confidently swaggered over to the young woman. "Excuse me, ma'am," his voice was strangely polite. "You've seemed to have dropped something, it's rolled far behind you," he pointed off behind the woman.

In a flash, the boy grabbed the purse and darted away from the woman. She whipped her head around just in time to see the boys scooting around the corner.

"Stop! Stop! That's my purse!" she started hobbling after them.

"Run!" the pack of boys sprinted away. The youngest felt the most odd rush of excitement. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline overwhelming his body. He had never done anything bad before, but now, he liked it.

Bullet in the Brain (Alternate Ending)

By Audrey (Age 15, Chinese International School)

Editor's Note: This is an alternate ending to Tobias Wolff's short story, "Bullet in the Brain". 


"What's so funny, bright boy?"

"Nothing."

"You think I'm comical? You think I'm some kind of clown?"

"No."

"You think you can mess with me?"

"No."

"Mess with me again, you're history. Capiche?"

Anders burst out laughing, covering his mouth with both hands and said, "Capiche - oh God, capiche," and at that, the man with the pistol raised the pistol. As he was pulling the trigger, 'Whack!' The man fell to the ground, dropping the gun. Anders turned around to see the woman he hated holding her 'bruised' bag after hitting the man hard on his head. He was shocked as he didn't think it would be the woman. He then crouched down and picked up the fallen gun and pointed it at the man. When the man saw the pistol facing him, he began to cry, begging Anders not to kill him. As the begging noise became continuous, Anders' temper began to heat up and 'Bang!' He shot the man.

It was worth nothing what the man did not remember, given what he did remember. He did not remember the death of his lovely mother and the funeral where he cried uncontrollably. He did not remember the brutal treatment that he received from his stepmother and stepsisters, or his horrible father who pushed him aside and ignored him all the time. He did not remember the feeling of carrying his children when they were babies. The man did not remember his love for his former job, a policeman, before being fired after being rumored to be a murderer. He did not remember how he suffered and became extremely depressed after losing his job. The man did not remember the night when a man approached him and changed his life, turning him into a bank robber. He did not remember how or when his wife divorced him and seeing his children for the very last time before they parted.

This is what he remembered. Snow. An alley. Darkness. The hooting of an owl nearby, himself aiming a gun towards a criminal that he and his colleagues found while taking a night stroll. He looks at the criminal while the criminal looks back at him, making eye contact. Still, he didn't want to shoot him. He just held the gun to protect himself, in case the criminal, who in fact was also holding a gun, at some point shot him.

Around him, the other policemen that were with him when he saw the man were shouting and pointing at the criminal, wanting him to shoot the man. But he didn't want to kill the man, he would rather put him in jail instead of shooting him. Just then, 'Bang!' One of his colleagues shot the gun towards the sky. Beside them, all the birds flew away, scared from the loud gunshot. Even the gunshot made him nervous, and he pulled the trigger and 'Bang!' shot the man. As the man fell to the ground, he could see his cold green eyes still staring at him. He shivered as he saw blood dripping onto the snow. He regretted killing the man. In silence, he wept, tears dripping down his face as he knew he would never forget how he first killed a man.