"Put your hands up, this is a stick up," An armed man, a gun shaking in his hands, "If no one moves, I don't shoot."
"Yeah right..." I grumble as I put my hands up and sinking to the ground. All I wanted was a chocolate bar, stopped in a gas station, and now there is a gun in my face.
I have always hated liers. Always. Why would anyone treat others as a mean to there own end not as their own person? Sadly though, I am terrible at telling if someone is lying. Maybe I am too trusting. The man's face was not covered weirdly enough, he looked about forty and was a little bit familiar
My name is Grayson Tyrrell. I'm eighteen and live in Morse, Florida. Senior in highschool and loving it. Well until I was held at gunpoint
He had a tremor in his hands, the gun shaking, "Now gi-i-i-ve me the money."
The cashier was petrified, actually he was a classmate of mine, Jerry, "The cops will be here any minute, you should just run."
"Give me the money," He was fuming, flames on the side of his head.
"Fine here you go," Jerry practically threw the money at him, but the money didn't get to robber fast enough, as a sirens surrounded the station. A megaphone was shouting for the attacker to leave the building with his hands up.
"Damn it," He was still trembling, "You." He pointed at me, "Stand up," He grabbed me by the collar and put the gun to my head, "Don't you dare move."
The phone rang, an annoying old telephone ring. Still holding on to me, he grabbed the phone and spoke, "Hello..."
"Hello there," I could hear the voice, it was calm and relaxing, but stirn at the same time, "How are you?"
"What do you want?"
"For you to come outside, with the boy in your arms unarmed, ok Seth,"
No way. I knew this guy. I have seen him on the news. His name is Seth Rofin. An escaped mental asylum patient. I don't remember what was wrong with him but he killed 3 people and is on the top of the FBI most wanted list.
"No, you don't understand," his voice shaked, "I can't go back, there, bad men." His words made no sense, Seth was just rambling on about the bad men. Through the window, the place was surrounded with police officers. Now a large black van pulled up with big white lettering on it. S.W.A.T., great.
I am definitely going to be late for school.
"You are completely surrounded, just walk out and you won't be harmed," I knew that voice. It was ringing in my ear, my brain searching for a voice match. Finally I got it. He was the head officer of this investigation, he was interviewed on the television, talking about how they will do everything they can to find him. Just so cop script but he had a voice a soft of a pillow made of clouds.
There were only a few other people in the gas station. A mother and her young son. He was at most eight, clinging to her with dear life. An old man, unfazed by the event actually, just sitting on the only chair in the shopping area. And finally Jerry. I think I have math with him, maybe, definitely. We only talked once, and it was to complain about our stupid principal. Yeah, we sat next to each other during an assembly. The principal of our school is a moron, and that day he was saying something about how we should not bring our own lunch to school because we need to support our school.
So I leaned over to Jerry and whispered, "His brain reminds me of unicorns, it doesn't exist."
To be completely honest at this moment I was terrified. There is gun to my head and an incompante negator on the other line. Thoroughly screwed am I.
YOU ARE READING
The Cost of a Lie
FantasyGrayson has always hated liars. They filled his heart with rage. But sometimes being in the dark is better than knowing the truth.