Shattered

Trapped

When I regained consciousness, I was laying on the scratchy carpeting of the living room, staring up at the bland ceiling. I sat up, which made my head spin. Grandpa was to my right, sitting on his signature recliner and looking around the room. He seemed perfectly unharmed by the barrage of bullets shot down the road. When he saw that I was awake, he said good morning, even though it was about 10:00 pm.

I looked around the room. The walls were splattered with bullet holes, and a few mangled bullets lay strewn around the living room. Grandma was nowhere to be seen. Did she get shot? She was the closest to the front of the house when the shooting started.

"Where's Grandma?" I asked.

 He stared at me for a while. It looked like the rusty gears in his brain were starting to turn. I was getting more nervous by the second. Finally, he pointed shakily to the hallway.

"She's in there," Grandpa finally spoke.

I walked through the hallway and into the dimly lit room on the other side of the house. There were bullet holes in the walls, but a lesser amount than the living room. Across the room, laying on a blanket on the ground, was Grandma. She had a blood-drenched towel wrapped around her right leg. There was agony in her eyes and face.

"Grandma! Grandma! Are you okay?!?" I managed to sputter out. My hands were trembling with fear and worry. I was also angry at Grandpa for not taking care of her. Then again, he probably didn't even realize that she was hurt.

"...Stanley." she managed to speak. "I'll... be fine. You can... survive. You don't need me."

"NO! Don't die on me, Grandma! Please, please, I can't live without you!" I yelled. I was shaking to badly that I felt like I was going to pass out.

"Just... remember me... Stanley. I will... always love you."

After those words, her eyes closed forever.

I blinked tears out of my eyes and sniffled. I thought about how my entire life, she had taken care of me and loved me. When I was a little child and they had to raise me, she never complained about the extra work. On the contrary, Grandpa would always ask her why they on earth it was their responsibility to raise another creature.

I couldn't bear to think of life without Grandma. I hardly considered Grandpa a person, let alone a person capable to raise another person.

A hand was placed upon my shoulder. I turned around to face Grandpa, who had a sad look written on his face.

"Trust me, things will be okay," he said.

I couldn't imagine how things could possibly be okay. Our house was ruined, my life was pretty much finished, and Grandma was literally dead.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, the gunshots outside resumed. Knowing better than to wait until somebody died, we rushed through the house and into the basement.