\\ Amazing trailer by @loyallyric //
One secret, one curse, is enough to change everything. Everything she knew, everything she thought she understood, became nothing, twisting into an ultimate heap of confusion. He is after her, the one that has...
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Wandering up and down the aisles, each shelf full to the brim of books and stories full of different adventures, it's almost as if the different colored spines are staring at me, screaming at me for passing them, wanting to be read by my eyes.
I pass each book, reading the spine with the title spelled either vertically or horizontally on it. I pass titles like Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson and others like Animal Farm by George Orwell, even The Wreckers by Lain Lawrence. I pass each title, skimming and browsing them one by one.
For some mysterious reason, I've always come to Barns & Noble to escape reality for a short period of time. I come here to find a key and a doorway through all my problems, and for me, the key is a book, and the doorway is the pages, each word holding a single significance in the story. Just as every single movement we make in our lives, creates history, but I like to think of yesterday as history and of tomorrow a mystery, a saying my mom would always tell me when I was young and indecisive, slow to make my own decisions.
I take out a particular book, The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton, a book I haven't read since my younger days when I was in seventh grade. This single book, it has always had an everlasting effect on me, the plot still having the power to make my tear ducts leak precious tears of joy and sadness. I open the cover, my eyes jutting to the text all staring with when I stepped out...
But all seems to come to a screeching halt when I hear a piercing shatter, coming one and two times at a time, echoing as I feel a split pain spreading from my side, my fingers becoming weak. I drop the book, the object falling immediately towards the ground as I bring my arms up to protect my skull, my closed shut as I fall to my knees, the pain too strong for me to stay standing.
I hear immense shouting, screaming, whaling coming from behind me. I hear cries of panic from the background, and the ringing of a phone, then a woman's voice starts screaming into the speaker.
"I've been in a shooting! It...it happened so fast! The windows, bullets, coming, flying towards the glass, shattering it! Come please!" the woman urgently states. I feel glass slice my skin, though it has now fallen to the ground or the shelves, my hand immediately comes to my side, cupping the area where a smarting pain has erupted and is only spreading, not stopping nor going away.
I pull my hand away and peer down, for my eyes dilate with fear for when all I see is red, dark red, covering my hand, almost like jam. My other hand shoots to my side, now covered with blood, my blood as the other one is too. I feel hot tears of excruciating pain well up like pools of water under my eyes.
My irises flicker backward, where the worker stares at me with large, dilated, brown eyes. A look of pure horror written on her face as she stares at the blood on my hands, and my stature fallen to my knees. Her blonde hair crowds her face, her mouth hung wide open.
"You're shot!" She exclaims rather loudly. I instantly look down again, but my eye spots something from the very corner. There lies a single, rounded bullet, purely made of silver.
Silver.
Another piercing sound is made, and my head whips to the place the sound waves are coming from. There I see a single man or possibly a woman, with a hood over their head, hiding their face, a gun in their right hand, smoke coming from the barrel of the pistol. Their finger seems to be set on the trigger, ready to pull, not hesitant to shoot.
I watch in complete horror as they lift their arm, pointing the weapon to what seems like someone behind me, and before I can react, they shoot, my mouth jaunting open and in a bellowing voice I yell behind me, "MOVE!" I watch as the small bullet ricochets my shoulder, barely touching me. My eyes trail it, until it hits its target, for then I'm already too late.
The blonde falls silently to the ground, the glass being jostled as her limp body comes in contact with it. I whip my head backward, towards the figure, who is still standing there, their hood still drawn over their face. I wince in pain as I make a move to stand, ready to run towards them, though I know they have a weapon.
It's as if they watch me in triumph, then they pivot on their heal, stalking off down the street, tucking the pistol into the waistband of their black jeans, their black gloves covering their hands. It's only now that I hear sirens blare in the distance, coming closer and closer with every passing second.
I double over, the glass being shuffled by my shoes, my scarf guarding my neck and ear against the ground which is littered with sharp shards from the windows that used to be occupying the large frames. Just then, I catch sight of a Honda CR-V pulling a rapid turn into the parking lot, right in front of me. The white exterior of the car comes to a screeching halt as the brakes squeal when they are slammed upon. I keep my hand securely on my wound, where I've gathered I've been shot, black spots start to form in my vision, only growing with every blink of my eyes.
I see a figure emerge from the car, their dirty blonde locks swept up. I watch as their figure starts at a bolting dash for me. Their figure crouches down beside me, as they frantically speak. They pull me into their lap, resting my head on the soft fabric of their sweatpants. I feel warms hands cup my cheeks, as their shouting continues, though it's muffled. It's as if there is a gallon's worth of water in my eardrum, trapped, unable to come out.
My eyes start to narrow, just as I see flashing red and blue lights pulling into the parking lot, but by this point, I'm being lifted, but not by the paramedics, but by the person who has come from the Honda. They bring me to the car, I feel them gently place me in the back seat, then slamming the door, only to step into the driver's seat of the car.
By this point, my eyes are closed shut as their voice still rings in the background. I feel the car ragingly being backed up, then rapidly being driven out of the parking lot and out into the open road. But by then, I feel my consciousness slip away and my hand begins to fall from my side as darkness crowds my thoughts.
The last thing I remember is feeling my hot, thick blood drip from my wound, staining the beige, leather seats.
