i, nineteen

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BARREL OF THE GUN









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A door opened ahead of them, the sound of their feet no longer bouncing off the walls with an echo. The musty smell vanishing and to be replaced with a stale odor. She wasn't sure which was worse, and for a brief moment sure imagined to be in the worst places possible.

Hands pushed her down, hard wood colliding with her frame as she sat down on what she believed to be a chair.

Brightness had engulfed her, as the hood had been pulled off her head. Eyes frantically blinking away the spots in order to try and search the room for any familiarity, only to find they had been in an auditorium. 

Well that, and a dead skitter laid lifelessly amongst one of the decorative pillars on stage, like some kind of trophy.

The man, Billy, whom Click had shot. Laid out on the stage as two men tried tending to his wound, withering beneath their touch.

All while a gun was aimed at the back of their heads.

Her mind was spinning too much to follow the conversation between the man on the stage. Eyes searching the room for exit routes or ways to escape if they ever got the chance.

At the way they treated them so far, chances were they were going to be picked off one by one anyways. Especially if the guy Click shot succumbed to his wounds.

She rather put up a fight trying to escape if the moment came than accept it. At least that way she'd have a choice in how she would die.

"Any of you happen to be a board-certified microsurgeon, fix my brother?" She'd only drawn her attention back to the man that had given orders when he began to approach them, stepping down the stairs of the stage. "Then what good are you?"

"So, where you from?" She'd watched the man's movement closely, instead of side eyeing her father for responding as if his life depended on it. "Cambridge."

All eyes had fallen on the eldest Mason, line of fire shifting to him instead of where it had once rested on the heads of her and the others. Simply because he had the guts, or stupidity, to speak up.

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