Trauma-ridden and adopted by matpat

School Shooting

-at school the next day-

I had eaten so little for the past few days that I felt like I could pass out at any minute. I could feel my blood sugar go into a spiraling descent as I avoided food. Every time I stood up, dizzy spells danced around my head like sugar being woven in a cotton candy machine. I managed to get through Spanish class without my head collapsing into unconsciousness on the desk. I struggled to trudge through the hallways to civics class. It was only halfway through the morning. How would I possibly be able to get through the day like this? I had to poke myself with a pencil a few times to stay awake. I was sure that even my teachers could probably tell that something was a little different. I was just about to finally throw in the towel and let myself fall asleep on my desk but I was jolted awake by an announcement. Everyone else in the class kept doing their work, assuming it would be something irrelevant such as calling a teacher to the office. However, once our principal came on, all of us dropped what we were doing and focused on what she was about to say.

Nothing could have prepared me. Nothing could have prepared anyone in this class, or any of the teachers. A freezing shiver chattered its way through my stiff bones as she spoke. Her trembling voice dug its way into my core. Her words did even worse. "Attention all students and faculty. We are going to a blackout lockdown. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is NOT a drill." The intercom cut out and none of us moved for a hot second. We were all too terrified to react. However, we also knew that we had to act quickly. Our teacher, Mr. Adams, instructed Marco and Zach to close the blinds since they were in the back. He ordered some other kid in the front to lock the door and block the window on it. I was frozen in place, and I wasn't the only one. Multiple other students were in the same situation as me. Too overwhelmed, too petrified to move. To cry. To breathe. Mr Adams shut off the buzzing, fluorescent ceiling lights and urgently ushered us all into the corner. It was so dark that I could barely even see my hand in front of my face. I scrambled to the corner and joined everyone else on the floor. I brought my knees up and closed my eyes tight, praying for it all to end.

I couldn't tell if it had been thirty seconds or thirty days. The concept of time seemed to be consumed by the darkness. Suddenly there was stomping and commotion that we could hear from the hallways. I didn't think it was possible, but the tensity in the room not only increased, but it seemed to have tripled. We heard a few muffled gunshots that seemed to be getting closer. I could imagine the shooter slowly coming over to my classroom. I crossed my fingers and hoped with my entire being that they would just walk by. The gunshots got less sparse and even closer and then we could feel banging on the door. I heard a multitude of people crying as quietly as possible. Soft, suppressed cries almost echoed in the room. The banging ceased and the shooter moved on. Just as I exhaled and thought they truly left, they came back. This time, not only shooting and banging on the door, but yelling. The piercing, rugged, seemingly feminine, voice was hard to make out words from. But then something was unmistakably yelled. "Y/N, PATRICK! I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE, LITTLE P*SSY!"

It was me that she was after. It was me that she wanted. I didn't know what to do so I forcefully pressed my hands up to my ears in a desperate attempt to block it out. It didn't work, the screams were too loud. The banging got louder. Harder. Then we all heard the wood of the door be shot over and over again. Eventually, the door was weak enough to be pushed open. It swung into the room, opening it to the shooter. Everyone started screaming bloody murder, my vocal cords seemed to not work. When I screamed, no sound came out. The gunshots started coming towards us and everyone ran. The bullets started rapid fire and I heard screams of pain and agony behind me as I tried to run out. "STOP RIGHT F*CKING THERE, PATRICK!" The shooter yelled at me. I kept running, the shooter ran after me. I sprinted down the stairs and saw inside some classrooms as I ran through the downstairs hallways. Some doors were wide open, lights on, a blood-smeared body or two in them. The sight of the innocent students lifeless on the dirty linoleum floors made me almost vomit. I tried to go through the front doors to escape but it was locked.

I could hear her making her way to the front doors where I was so I bolted down another hallway. Another sad, defeated classroom came across me. I ran into it and locked the door behind me. I pulled the window blinds up and grabbed a nearby chair. I used all of my adrenaline-induced strength to smash the chair into the window. The plexiglass shattered and I had a way out. I practically dove out of the window and ran down the street in no particular direction. Sweat was dripping down my face and through my clothing. I had a horrible side cramp from the running but I couldn't stop. I passed a few blocks and went into a random neighborhood. I was in the clear at this point but just to be safe, I ducked into the backyard of the first house I saw. From there, I called Mat. I saw that both he and Steph had been frantically texting me. He picked up the phone before the first ring even finished.

"Oh my god, y/n! Are you okay? Please tell me you are okay!" "I- don't rr-really know." I spat out through buckets of tears. "Were you shot? Are you bleeding?" "I wasn't shot....no! It-it's complicated. Can you please pick me up?" "Of course, I'm on my way right now. Where are you?" "I nervously came out of my little hiding place in the backyard and checked the street sign. "Uh...Brookview Street." I told him. "Got it." I could hear him turning the keys and starting up the engine. "Don't hang up. Please. Don't hang up until I know you are safe." He begged. I respected his wishes and stayed on the call. Neither of us said anything, we just waited in silence until I saw his car pull up to the street. I ran into the backseat and Steph was there. Mat was driving and Mark was in the passenger seat. "Y/N!!!" She threw her arms around me. "Where's Birsa!?" Mark asked in a panic. "I don't know! I don't know!" I cried with my face in my hands and Steph put her arm around me, pulling me closer. I learned against her shoulder and continued to cry.