Identity (Justin Bieber Fanfic)

Chapter Two

(Mia's Point of View)

"He likes you." 

"Oh, right, because I'm definitely his type. Be realistic Julie." I shoot back with a laugh, my stomach beginning to twist at the thought.  

"You never know, Mia. He could be into girls that wear their mom's bra over their clothes to school."   

Slapping her arm, my entire face flushes a deep red in immediate embarrassment. "Hey, I was six! I didn't know any better. I brought it to school and thought it looked good on me. I was a stupid kid."   

Julie flashes me a crooked smile, her eyebrows rising in mock suspicion. "Mhm."    The sudden vibration of my phone in my pocket cuts the conversation short. Stopping, I pull it out, a text from my mom now filling the screen.   'Dinner @ 6. Start walking back now.'  

I reply with a quick 'okay,' and slide it back into my pocket. "I gotta go home. Dinner's about to be ready. Rain check on the coffee?"   

Julie nods, her lips curling into an easy grin. "Of course. I'll just invite Mark," she teases, giving me one last wink before turning around.  

"Don't have too much fun!" I yell with a laugh.   

She throws up a thumbs up in return, the both of us now walking in opposite directions. I can feel the breeze begin to wrap around my ankles, goosebumps now sprouting all over my exposed skin. "Dammit, I should I have brought a sweatshirt." I whisper to myself, my icy palms doing nothing but make my arms colder as I continue to rub them furiously.  

I turn a corner, a wide black building now stealing the attention of my eyes. I've seen it a hundred times, but it never fails to amaze me. An arena home to concerts and sporting events stands tall and beautiful before me. I've never taken a step inside, but everyone that's ever lived in this town knows it's amazing. Newly built in an old town, it's definitely something to admire.  

I live in a single income home with my mom, and my mom only. Money isn't something we have a lot of, but I know I'm lucky to have what I do. One day it'll be me attending a big concert. Justin Bieber is performing now, I notice. I can't help but smile, remembering the songs I've heard countless times on the radio. He's definitely talented. I wouldn't mind attending a concert one day.

Stepping closer to the door, I hear only the slightest of noise. Disappointed, I step back and admire it one last time before continuing my journey home. That's when I hear it.  

Gunshot. Screams. Cries for help. Stepping farther away from the double doors, I can sense it coming only a split second before. The doors burst open, a swarm of bloodied teenage girls tumbling over one another as they scramble to escape the nightmare I can only imagine is taking place inside.  

My chest locks, a burning sensation tearing through me as shock takes over my body. I'm bumped and pushed over and over again. This quickly snaps me into survival mode. Pushing through a crowd of girls, I sprint to a small book store a good distance away from the arena, my shaky fingers barely able to pull the door behind me to a shut.  

A stocky man dressed in a blue polo and cargo pants rushes over to me, his thick brown beard clearly in need of a wash. "What the hell is going on?"    Sweat pours down my temples, my throat unable to produce words. I can't breathe. Grabbing hold of his shirt sleeve, I begin to wobble, black dots littering my vision.   

"I hear gunshot inside the arena. People are escaping covered in blood. I-I don't know what's going on." I struggle to get out, the tears beginning to flow.    The man's bright blue eyes explode in size, his grip on me loosening as he scrambles to the front desk. Grabbing the phone, he dials 911 with steady fingers, his hands tapping anxiously against his leg.

I burst out of the book store without a second thought, my wild eyes struggling to adjust as swarms of people continue to pile up outside the arena. I nearly vomit at the sight of the bloodied victims. A sick person attended that concert, and I hope to God that they're punished for what they've done. Sirens wail as the blue and red of police approach the building in lightning speed. I can't even imagine how many people have called 911 by now.   

A thought hits me, and I immediately regret where I'm standing. The shooter, or even shooters, could be anywhere. I'm dead where I stand.