Leal

54.5(a)

Heavy themes in this one, please read with caution

Two weeks before
Tyrone's PoV:

The gun, hidden underneath my hoodie, feels equally as heavy as the black tattoo branded on my right shoulder.

I sit in maths, as if this is going to be a regular Tuesday afternoon at school.

It wasn't, things for me will never be the same after this.

My knee bounces up and down repetitively. Nobody notices, nobody is concerned.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, causing me to take it out and check the notification. I know who it is without looking.

Mom
You know what you have to do
Don't you dare come back without doing it

I stare at the cold words, sensing the emotionless tone behind the screen.

It's in no way comforting but it's familiar.

I glance up at the slam of a door, and my heart rate spikes.

There she is.

She's helping her friend down the corridor, holding her bag and looking over Florence with a cautious stare.

I keep glancing at the clock, wait for enough time to pass. Enough time for her to drop Florence off at reception, as I assume she was doing, and be well on her way back.

I make a quick, quiet and unnoticed exit of my lesson, bag slung over my shoulder carelessly.

Each step I take sends a jolt through me, nerves rushing through my whole body.

I can't find her.

The corridors are isolatingly empty. The few people I do pass don't question me, not expecting me to be doing anything significant, or worthy of interrogation.

God, why did they have to kill Aaron?

'Retribution', 'fairness', 'justice', 'revenge'.

That's all that had been whispered in to my ears by gang members recently.

That's what had built up to this moment.

Me, gun in my hand, opposite Chiara Moretti.

Although, her friend wasn't meant to be here.

Florence isn't a bad person. Blissfully unaware, maybe, but overall nice to others despite her popularity. I sat next to her all semester in English.

I wouldn't be anymore though as there's no way I could return to this school after what I'm about to do.

What I am doing.

The weapon in my arm shakes as my stance trembles. I'm not steady, I'm unsure.

With a small amount of pressure on the trigger, a bullet shoots out.

A bang, and the kickback of the gun makes me stumble slightly before righting myself.

I look up, and the sight takes me back.

I missed.

I shot Florence.

I pause and stare at the black gun in a daze.

I missed.

I hold it up slightly, palms sweating.

I missed.

I close my eyes, shooting again in the same direction, aiming for Chiara.

But she took her chance.

She escaped with Florence.

I didn't notice.

I missed.

They're going to kill me.

I walk around a bit, slowly and quietly as the school goes into a lockdown.

I need to find Chiara. I need to kill her.

To no luck, my search fails.

I couldn't kill her.

They're going to kill me.

I stare at the gun in my hands.

I gulp.