The shots rang out, echoing down the hallways of the school. Loud screams of fear, maybe some of pain, but who could really know? Hidden away in the stall, fighting for fear, two enemies were stuck together. A typical way of starting my story is it not? An old enemy to friends with some forgiveness trope? My story isn’t like that, life isn’t that simple. Forgiveness is something that has no place in either of our hearts. The fact that we had accepted our fates changed nothing about how we felt towards each other. Hearts racing. Cries muffled, hoping we could survive the shots. Funny how God became prevalent in my life that very moment. Of course, I had never been afraid of death. But knowing she could die, that was worse. I prayed she would survive, even if I couldn’t.
I never understood how people said shots were so loud. People always said they rang, they hurt your ears and inspired fear. But these shots weren’t fear-inducing. If anything, it sounded like Jonathan had brought fireworks to Chem class again. That was my first thought at least. But it wasn’t hers. I remember arriving at school that fine fall morning, the air slightly off than normal. It was just changing to fall here is this casual suburban town, nothing bad ever happens here. The change in the air, I attributed it to the changing of seasons, the smell of the dying leaves that represents a beautiful season. Amazing how death can be so beautiful. I had no idea how true it was. Death really is a beautiful tragedy
She was huddled behind me, so typical of her to use my strength for protection. I used to dream that protecting her would be the only thing I would ever do, so it was only natural I get stuck in front, shielding her from any pain. Naturally, I would die for her. God, she was beautiful, her hair falling just past her waist when she walked. I knew she was afraid, she only held my arm like she was when she was afraid. She hadn’t held it so tight in so long. Not since last year. I don’t typically believe in the whole ‘fate’ thing. I mean the idea that something out there is trying to control what happens to us, or that stuff is destined, just doesn’t make sense to me. But, walking into the bathroom, finding her there, trapped there when those shots rang out, that could be nothing other than fate. She whispered a plea to me. Almost as if I was playing God. Something she had seemed to do in my life whenever we were together.
“Please. Please, don’t let me die.” Her words still ring in my ear when I sleep at night. The fear laced in her voice.
Her whispers seemed less of a plea and more of a bargain as if I had any control over the crazy person’s intentions.
“Hey, one thing you should know, I never break a promise,” Unlike you, the thought crossed my mind but I knew better than to speak it. Speaking of the past at that moment would not have been a wise decision, it couldn’t change the future that was before us. . She wouldn’t appreciate my joke, anyways. “And I distinctly remember telling you I would die for you if it came down to it. You will make it out of here,” I whispered, as more of a prayer to something, to anyone.Maybe to God. I hated her.I hated her stupid smile that made my heart melt. I hated her clinging to me like I was the only way to live. I hated her. She broke me in more ways than one, but how could I ever stop loving someone so amazing? Most of all, I hated that I would die for her, after all she did to me. I hated that I loved her.
“Well, that was before, before ya know?” Her whispers seemed to be graced with a light laugh, as if her sleeping with MY
ex
best friend was a joke. I rolled my eyes, it was so typical of her to think causing pain was a joke. My pain seemed insignificant to her, as if this world was all here for her and her actions had no effect on me. Just another page in her book, a character she would eventually write out.
“Yeah, well it is still a promise, and I won’t break it.” Sadly, I can’t let you get hurt. The thought of her hurting hurt me more than I believed bullets could. People say, well said, I cared too much. Does it matter though? In the end, I was just words in a never-ending story.
The shots were getting closer and the closer they grew, the more I knew it was a possibility. I allowed myself to accept that I would die today. I would die in this godforsaken school, defending the girl who broke my heart. Like some sort of hero.
As if she had read my thoughts, she started crying. The fear was sinking in a lot more. I knew she was scared, but did she have to be so damn loud? Death was imminent and it was scary, but she was risking both our lives now. Just like her, never thinking of me. Just herself. Just her fear. She never thought ahead. Never planned. Never cared for the future like I did. I mean, how could she, she had ruined mine.
“If you do not shut up, I will knock you out because damn it if I am dying for you, I will not do so because you had to be so damn loud!” I sneered the last word, hissing softly. I never was tense with her before, and I could tell it scared her into silence. I let her get away with a lot when we were together, but this was not something I had been prepared to let her get away with. I wasn’t going to let her get herself killed.
That is when it happened. I heard him come in the bathroom, gun in hand, firing shots into the stalls as he kicked them open. One. By. One. He was getting closer, I could feel the fear tingling the back of my throat, my anxiety shooting up.
And, of course, she screamed. I had one shot and I knew it. After all, if I was dying for her, I was doing it the heroic way.
As soon as he opened the door, I pounced. I landed squarely on his chest, his weapon pressing into my skin. I knew it would leave a bruise but at the moment that was the least of my concerns.
“RUN NOW!” I screamed as I fought against this boy, I struggled to keep his hand away from the trigger.
She didn’t run right away, but after a second scream at her, she got the message.
She ran, I watched her leave the bathroom, quicker than I had ever seen her.
BANG! I still held on. I would not let him chase her. I wouldn’t.
One more. Then another. One after another, fired straight into me, ripped holes into my flesh. But I never felt the pain. All I felt was fear. I struggled, grabbed the gun from him as quickly as possible, I tried to wrestle it away.
We struggled. It felt like forever. And then, I heard the final shot and felt him go limp.
And everything went black. Then white. In my last moments of clarity, I thanked God one last time.
Thank you for letting her live.
