Regret (Ianthony)

The Question

Anthony stared upwards into the fluorescent lights above, incapable of speech. There was nothing to say; besides, he wasn't able anyhow. The ability to form words had escaped him, and he wasn't sure whether it was because of the bullet to his chest or the the tears slithering down his face in twisted lines of moisture. He was actually unsure of exactly why he had begun to cry.

Pain?

No, his blood loss had already rendered him numb. He could feel nothing apart from Ian's presence and the shouting around him.

Anger?

Well, it would make sense that he would be seeing red at this point. The man that had started all this nonsense had calmly entered the coffee shop that Ian and Anthony had chosen to visit for a snack. A muffin, a bagel, whatever sounded appeasing at the moment. There was no particular reason that the man had pulled a gun out of his pocket. Did the coffee lady put something else in his drink? Whatever it was, he pointed that pistol at her first and fired. She was dead before she hit the floor, an awful splatter of blood spraying the empty space behind her. It became so silent after the first shot, and the only question on anyone's mind was "Why?" Then, pandemonium reigned.

Ian was the second to be aimed at. In that second, Anthony knew that this was why he had been born. This was the reason he and Ian had become such good friends in school, why he uploaded their first video to the Internet.

Anthony jumped in front of Ian, and then he was down. He couldn't feel, which was probably a good thing. Crimson began pumping out of his chest, and he knew he wouldn't make it. He could feel a woman scream in the background, and heard the sound of another gunshot. Another body crashed to the ground, and he heard someone yelling cusses and the pistol clatter to the ground. His vision was fading fast, and all he could muster was one final question.

Did he regret the decisions he made to build up to this moment?