There's a hard knock on my door, and before I could put my ice cream down and take off my blanket, the doors opening.
"Did you hear what's going on?" Michael rushes in, confusing me greatly.
"What?" I ask, standing up.
"The mall, you know the one that is literally four blocks from here? There's a shooting, they have hostages," he says, grabbing the remote control and turning on the news.
It's filled with live coverage of the mall we've been to many times. Helicopters flying around and police cars.
"Cat," my heart drops, and Michael looks over at me.
"What?"
"Cat!" I exclaim, "She's there! Cats there!"
I pull out my phone and try calling her multiple times, but she doesn't answer.
"Oh my god," my heart races, "I-I gotta go down there, oh my god."
"Okay, let's go," he says, grabbing my keys and bag for me. I furrow my eyebrows as he hands it to me, "You don't think I'm letting you go alone, right?"
"I just thought-" I say quietly, thinking about how he came to the apartment not long ago, "I know what you thought, but all because I came here and told you how I feel doesn't mean I'm not still your friend, Grace."
I nod, feeling petty for thinking that because he came here and told me how he feels, I would automatically assume it meant we were no longer friends.
The two of us race out of my apartment and go to his car, since we don't want to waste time walking.
The drive was very quick, and we obviously couldn't park in the parking lot of the mall so we had to park down the block from it and run to the scene.
Police cars and officers are everywhere, and a few civilians standing back.
I run up to a police man, "Where are the people that got out? Did anyone get out? Who are the hostages?"
"I can't disclose information to the public, I'm sorry-"
"I'm not the public, I'm someone's sister!" Tears fall from my eyes, "Please, please tell if you know who is in there."
He sighs, before looking back at his team before back at me, "We only know what they look like, we don't know names."
"What do they look like?" I ask. My hand searches for Michaels instinctively, and he grabs onto it, holding it tightly in his, his other hand holding my arm.
"I really shouldn't be saying this," he shakes his head, "But there's a women, red hair, freckles, pink shirt and white pants," he reads from his notepad, "Next to her was a older man, around 50 maybe, with a grey shirt and jeans. Next to him was a younger boy, maybe around 16 or so, with blonde hair and a button down blue shirt."
I nod, licking my lips as he continues, "Next to him is a girl. They think she's around 21 or so. Brown hair, in a red flannel and-"
"Oh my god," my heart stops and I feel my legs give out slightly, but Michael keeps me steady, "That's her, she's in there. Is she okay?"
"I don't know," he shakes his head, a sad look on his face.
"It could be anyone," the officer says, "You don't know it's her, I wouldn't get to-"
"It's her," My jaw clenches, "Her hair is in a pony tail, and she has blue jeans on when she usually wears black but they were being washed today. It's her."
