The Gunman

Chapter Thirty-Three: Axel

My parents had called me earlier the morning, when they first heard about the shooting. They first had me confirm it, then they both started crying. Their panic, sadness and fear hadn't helped me stay strong. It helped me crumble.

My parents had been those parents that never really took charge; they let me tell them how to act. They made me grow up too soon, and I had been too mature and independent than someone my age should have been. But right then, all I wanted was to talk to my parents. I needed someone calm on the other end.

But that wasn't my parents. They kept sniveling and whining, and I told them I'd be ok, I'd be fine. Though I wasn't so sure about that. My parents eventually stopped sniveling and whining, and I sighed in relief.

Since they stopped crying, I could think of what to do, where to go. My mind was swimming with ideas as faint footsteps echoed down the hallway outside our door. The first thing I did was press the end button on my phone, and slide it across the room.

If I had been talking with my parents he could have heard me, same with if the phone began to ring. I looked around the room; my calm gaze searched everything for a good hiding spot. Then, I found one.

I stepped over my scared classmates, who all thought that if they lay on the floor then they were untouchable. You'd think for a class of seniors they would think better. But you always let people believe what they chose to believe in those kinds of situations. It was like an unspoken rule.

It was a small cabinet, underneath the science room sinks. I looked from my long legs to the cramped space, and my throat constricted in fear. The one thing, the only thing I was afraid of, was tight spaces. Some chose to call it claustrophobic. I just called it a pain in the butt.

My eyes were tightly shut, and I shimmied into the small square. Then, I closed the wooden doors behind me. It was dark, and it took me a few seconds to get used to it. And when I did, I became light headed. The space was much smaller than I had imagined, and my eyes opened wide.

The breathing into my lungs became irregular and I felt like screaming. But I couldn't, because the lack of air made it impossible. So I settled with closing my eyes and imagining a giant meadow that stretched for miles and miles. There were no tight spaces, darkness, or men with guns. It was just me and the grass, trees, and rivers.

I sighed, but paused when I heard the footsteps grow nearer. My ears listened better than they ever had before and I waited. Was he going to come in the room? Would he know I was hiding in the cabinet? My lips squeezed tightly together.

Then, the footsteps began to fade. They kept fading, and fading. He had walked past our room. I smiled, happy. We were all going to live. Then, the worst thing happened. My phone went off from the corner I had slid it to. It was my parents ring tone; they were calling me back after I had hung up. Why had they waited that long?

I didn't get out of my spot, instead I stayed. When my phone stopped ringing, everything was silent. It felt like the whole world held their breath for the whole class. Then, the footsteps started again, but they weren't fading anymore. They were coming closer and closer.

My fear was over flowing, but I remained quiet. Just like everyone else. Then, there was a loud crack and a scream. The scream came from a girl, someone in that room. He had entered. There was more quiet, no sound of machine or man.

Then, someone said, "Dude, is that Xavier?" It was just one small whisper, but many more followed. It seemed that even the brink of death wouldn't stop the teenagers from gossiping.

"Yes," A voice said, "I am Xavier. I am here to save you all!" His voice yelled, sounding like a joyous preacher on the night of Christmas Eve. It made my stomach feel sick, like I had eaten too much food and was about to throw it all back up.

"Save us?" Someone asked quietly, "From what could you be saving us?" Anyone could tell that the owner of that voice, a boy, was trying not to cry. Later, I would flash back to it as sad, but right then all I thought of was myself.

"Yourselves." Was the only answer, then a lot of huge popping noises filled the room. My hands could barely move in the space, but somehow I had moved them so they covered my ears from the horrific noise. I knew what it was, anybody would know what it was, but my brain was playing dumb. It kept telling me that it was fake, or it was just some loud noise. But I knew what it was; it was gunshots firing at people I knew.

When the noise stopped, I just sat there. I could feel another person in the room, and at first I thought it might have been a survivor. But then I knew it was the shooter, the dark, hungry breaths he took. It couldn't be anybody else's, but that of a killer.

Then, the presence was gone and I knew I was alone in a room full of the dead. The cramped space seemed more welcoming than the open space right then, and I stayed sitting for a while. It was when my feet and legs began to buzz with lack of circulation that I forced myself out of the cave-like cabinets.

The bodies lay everywhere, and every single one of them had a look frozen on their faces. I held my breath, and walked over them. Until I reached my phone, which I took in my hand and threw on the ground. Then I stepped on it.

An everyday device had been the cause of all of those people's deaths. It was ironic, really. One thing that I never once expected could betray me had. My phone, the one I used to keep in touch with my family all day, was a traitor. It was a murderer.