I live everyday in constant fear, afraid that it could very well be my last day. I cannot walk down the street or to school without looking over my shoulder every three seconds. Why did I pay $15 to feel like this? 

It is that time of the year where seniors suit up for the most intense battle of their lives. Assassins started on Feb. 23 and with that comes intense planning, constant paranoia, and a lot of broken trust. This will test the will power and friendships of many seniors.

Here’s how it works: Two seniors are paired up and are given another pair whom they must eliminate by shooting them with a Nerf gun within a certain time span while staying safe from their assassins.

To make it even more difficult, pairs don’t know who is targeting them, so they must stay alert at all times.

Pairs aren’t allowed to “assassinate anyone” on campus, during school hours or when they are going to or at work. The winner of the game gets 65 percent of the entry money which is more than $1,000.

Most seniors feel just like this: I’ve waited my entire high school career for this opportunity and all it has caused is crippling paranoia. “How will I survive?” they ask themselves.  “What if I just live in the second floor bathroom? Then they can’t get me, right?

Here’s a typical day in the mind of an assassin player: I’ve just received my first target and now I must find out how to track them down. This task seems like it’s going to be impossible, until a miracle occurred.

I log onto my Twitter to find the Holy Grail for assassins. Some stalker, or hero, has leaked most everyone’s address and workplace. I ignore that some individual has compiled more information about our lives than the NSA could for my job has become so much easier.

After this revelation I can now form a plan with my partner. We strategize for hours arguing over how to go about this.

Do I hide in the trees? The bushes? Under the person’s car?  

As we prepare to step out into the world we see a car pass. Could that be them? The adrenaline is at an all-time high as we jump back inside and lock all of the doors. Should we board up all the windows? I haven’t been this stressed since admin walked into the bathroom when I was doing “legal” activites.  

I peek through the blinds and there is nothing. Maybe we were just freaking out over nothing. After this scare we prepare to make the first move. We roll up to our target’s house and it seems quiet. Too quiet. But we continue as planned  wait for any sign of life in the house. 

Then the door opens. A sudden rush of adrenaline goes through my body as we push along the fence trying our best not to be seen, and as he goes for his keys to unlock his car I take aim and end his game. The celebration is quick as we hurry back to our only safe space, my home. What an intense first day.

Day two is not any easier. We are chased by our targets and boxed into a parking spot. A good old fashioned Mexican stand-off. It felt like we were trapped in the car for years, with no food or water, and to make it worse the only music we had available to us was Dummy Boy. I honestly considered turning the Nerf gun on myself after hearing FEFE for the third time.

It’s only day three and I haven’t seen my family in days. I’m trapped in this store surrounded by the two people trying to take me out.  I shouldn’t have trusted anyone who would give up my location. I need to make a run for it. As I rush through the aisles of clothes in Target I see him. He aims and the soft pop is heard four feet across the store. 

Is that it? No more paranoia, no more running, it is all over. I should be disappointed to a level Giants faans felt after Odel Beckham Jr got traded to the Browns. But I feel only relief. 

Finally, I return to my life of school and friends. But the one lesson I have learned is this: “War, war never changes.”