Bullying is sour, revenge is sweet

I was asked to write a story today, and my friend wanted it to be about revenge, she asked it to be about bullying from the popular kid, and I brought up the idea of having it where the victim while sitting at gun point is having flashbacks of all the torment she's caused. This is just the begining and I'll see where i can take this.

Growing up, I was never one for having a schedule. I lived my days, one day at a time, I lived in the moment, forgetting the past and not even having a thought for the future. I liked it this way, I was the mighty lioness in the jungle, I targeted my prey and I feared nothing. That’s how lions in the wild live, unlike those lions that live in captivity where their whole lives are planned out for them, their meals, shows, sometimes even death. But not me, I’m naturally wild, but just like every wild beast, there’s a greater beast that lies lurking in the shadows. A poacher that hides behind the brush, stalking its prey, following its tracks until it’s prepared to pounce.
I felt as if my lungs stopped working, yet I knew I was alive, for my heart raced in my chest. I could feel the rhythm of my heart pulsate through my body; it pounded like a mad drummer against my ear drums. My knuckles turned white as clenched to the desk hoping to find some stability. I wanted, so badly to close my eyes and open them to something better, as if waking from a bad dream, but I was too afraid to even blink.
I sat there; my eyes stuck staring down the dark tunnel. I stared deeply into it to see if something lied on the other end of it. I didn’t have to be able to know what waited in its shadows, my eyes couldn’t pierce the darkness but I knew that what waited for me was only to be my demise.
My mind seemed to race, but it felt as if it was being played in slow motion. Me! I thought, being the mighty lioness that I am, queen of my own jungle, how could something like this happen! I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t know what to feel. I’ve shut off my mind and heart to live by my instinct. The mind of a lion is limited to only those things that he’s been exposed to, if a lion see’s weakness he destroys it, if it hears the pleas, he’ll end them, if it smells blood it goes for the kill, if it feels a fight, it wins, and if it tastes victory it yearns for more!
In this situation a lion would fight, for he knows not what he’s fighting against. But I’m no lion; I’m just a girl in high school, who sits here, no longer a predator, but now the prey of a poacher, who stands before me as I stare down the barrel its gun.