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It's funny—Ted Talk videos make it seem so easy to forgo every human distinction of what enables the psychology of our synopsis. Why our brain sometimes turns off and how we can turn the cogs in our head just a smidge—bring back all the clarity because it was that simple.
Ted Talk videos don't know shit.
I couldn't stop shaking no matter how hard I tried to remind myself I was still alive—this was all real.
The very person who I despised had a gun pressed against my back, now reciprocating the same effect to my mom. I watched as she trembled just as much as me, if not more. How her eyes twitched, that same weakness immobilizing her from moving, despite how much her inner-protectiveness craved to escape from the confines of her conscious. That very conscious that sent fire alarms in her head because just the fact a gun was digging into my spine was enough reason for her to remain completely and utterly still. Calm. Well, calm as someone's life being threatened calm.
Carefully, she put her hands up to show she wasn't gonna try anything. Even the faintest inhale, and I flinched when Sam's calloused open hand squeezed my arm, nearly turning it blue. The cold tip of the gun didn't waver even the slightest—and yet I could feel the loathing ripple off of him and onto my body as his nails sunk into my skin.
He was beyond angry—if not, an unhinged psychopath waiting to burst.
"M-Mom," I didn't even notice tears running down my cheeks until they crept into my mouth, burning my tongue.
She couldn't move just as much as me, and despite the plea in my voice, I watched as it hurt her to stand idly by as my life was tempted by the easy press of a trigger.
I couldn't breathe because I worried it make my demise come swifter.
Sam dug it even more rigid into my back—I held all the urge to hiss. Stifled gasps came out instead. Mom nearly took a step further before Sam cocked the gun, a click resounding eerily in the air.
"Uh, uh, uh, Mrs. Locke," Sam tsked, stilling any further moves she had decided to take, "one more step and you lose yet another family member."
Mom flinched, putting her hands up even further as if that aided our current predicament. I felt my body tremble as Sam demanded with everything minute going by, a little less patience and more aggravation, "Where is the Head Key?"
Mom couldn't stop the tears from rendering her as she shook her head, frustrated and confused and terrified. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just—please, Sam. Let Max go. Sam, please. Don't hurt her."
He inhaled shortly, "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I want the key. Where the fuck is the Head Key or I will shoot her fucking brains out!"
I bit my tongue, blood nearly seeping out from how hard I tried to censor my cries. I was scared, and I hated feeling scared. I couldn't move, I couldn't run, I was literally one blink from dying.
