Random Things I've written

Random essays and stories written by yours truly

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5. 10th Grade- The Shooting

10th Grade

Warning: I wrote this because of a threat my school got. If you are triggered by school shootings please don't read.

My phone buzzes.

Peter: You know you look hot when you're concentrating?

Me: You know you look hot when you actually do your work instead of flirting with me?

Peter: I can't help it if I hate History.

Me: Shhhh you'll get me in trouble!

"Eyes up front please!", the teacher calls out. I look over to see Peter mouthing sorry. I shrug.

That's when we heard it. The gun shots. At first everyone thought we were just hearing things. After all, wasn't everyone paranoid after all the recent shootings.

Then we heard it again. We all dropped to the floor, terrified.

"Peter!", I whisper, mortified. He scoots over to me and places his hand in mine. Normally that would make me melt, but not now. Not when death is so close.

From my spot I can barely see outside, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. I watch as a gunman breaks into the classroom across from ours. I hear them screaming, begging. I watch him shoot the lights and I watch them flicker.

The lights look like lightning. Flashing on and off, on and off. Every gunshot feels like someone ripping out my heart. I wince at every single shot, sobbing knowing I can't do anything to help.

Finally at 2pm they leave. Almost 6 hours after they arrived. One of the kids stands up. Big mistake. At that moment a gunman looked over and saw they left witnesses.

He runs over and starts yelling at us to let him in. "I love you so much.", Peter whispers. "I love you too.", I whisper through my tears.

The gunman kicks the door open. The next thing I know Peter throws me to the ground to protect me with his body. The gunman chuckles at our terrified expressions.

He points his gun at my best friend and shoots her point blank. I am about to scream when Peter covers my mouth. "Shhhh.", he whispers.

I start sobbing. "What do we have here?", the shooter says creepily, touching my cheek. "Don't touch her!", Peter screams. "Aww. Looks like we got ourselves a pair of lovebirds.", he says while smiling creepily.

He points his gun at me when the sub suddenly tackles him. "GO! GET OUT OF HERE!", he screams at us. We run away, but as we do so we hear a gunshot.

The news outlets call us "lucky" to have survived but if they were there they would know that we didn't survive, not really. We died with all those kids that we watched be killed. We watched them die just steps away from us, but we couldn't help because, if we did, we would be lying in a morgue, too.

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