Diagnosis

7

      I hit decline to yet another one of Phil's calls. Dan was messaging me but I didn't respond to either of them. My talk with Patrick made it clear that treatment wasn't an option. I felt bad for Patrick but it wasn't his decision to make.
I sat in the Starbucks I met Phil at and stared out the window. It was raining so it was pretty empty in the coffee shop. I took a sip of my hot chocolate and started crying. I'm just going to live the rest of the time I have left as I please.
The bell above the door dinged but I ignored it and put my head up against the window. The cold glass felt good on my face. Someone sat in the seat across from me but I still didn't look up.
"Is this seat taken?" An unfamiliar voice asked. I looked up and found a creepy looking guy there. I shook my head no and stood up to leave. He grabbed my arm and I winced.
"Please let go of me." I said, my voice shaky and crackly from crying.
"Put your hands up." He whispered. I looked at him curiously and he scowled at me. "I said put your hands up!" He screamed. I whimpered and held them up. The people behind the counter screamed as he pulled at a gun.
"Kneel on the ground and keep your hands up." He directed. I kneeled down letting out a soft cry. The rest of the people did the same and the employees stepped out from behind the counter.
One of the people stood to run and leave and he shot them in the leg. I screamed and started crying. I reached for the phone in my pocket and hit Phil's contact. I hit call but he kicked it out of my hand and held the gun to my head.
"Please don't shoot me." I whimpered. My arms started shaking as the gun clicked.
"I will pull the trigger, don't think I won't!" He yelled. The employees started inching for the phone.
The door opened to the caffe and the police ran in with guns. Phil followed in behind them with his phone in his hand. He must of heard me when the man kicked my phone out of my hand. There was a gunshot and everything went black.