They were seperated by the hushed commotion of kids fleeing to safety. Avi, Kirstie, and Scott were in the left stairwell that led from the hallway to under the stage. Kevin and Mitch were in the right one.
Avi was hugging Kirstie, keeping the blonde's weeping quiet while she held Scott's hand. Ten feet away, Kevin and Mitch were sitting side-by-side, Mitch crying silently while Kevin prayed.
Scott heard the auditorium door bust open, and angry footsteps proceeding toward the right stairwell. He couldn't breathe anymore. He sat down with his head between his legs as he heard gunshots ring out. He began furiously crying, feeling that Mitch was gone.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Mitch was absolutely terrifed as he heard footsteps approach their door. The only thought that ran across his mind was Scott and hoping that he was okay.
One gunshot. He saw the lock bust off of the door as it creaked open.
Two gunshots. The kids at the bottom of the staircase were dead. He saw the smirk on Adam's face and the gun that pointed towards his body.
Three gunshots. He saw blackness.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Scott regained consciousness to be thrust into the hell he was trying to escape. They were still sitting in the stairwell, Kirstie still sobbing and Avi trying to comfort her. His head was in Kirstie's lap and Avi was sitting on the step below him, preventing him from falling down the steps. His head was bleeding from where he hit the ground and he had a massive headache. And then he thought of Mitch.
He began to have another panic attack that could not be controlled. He just wanted to die to get out of this pain and to see Mitch. But he had to sit there and wait for police.
Lost in his mind, Scott sat there for two hours until he was shaken by a tear-stained Kirstie motioning to the open door, guarded by a SWAT team member. He couldn't hear her but he saw her mouth moving, signaling that they must have to get out.
He couldn't move. Nor did he want to. Avi dragged him up the stairs, and got him to his feet. He didn't notice anything odd at first until he went to his locker to get his things. There, taped to the metal, was a typed note.
His blood is on your hands.
YOU ARE READING
Where We Started (A Scömìche Fanfiction)
FanfictionScott Hoying and Mitch Grassi are a beautiful example of true love. But how did they end up this way? And will they always be this way? (Swearing, smut in later chapters, and lots of fluff)
