Autumn Silence (On Hold)

Chapter Two

The small room is lit by single light suspended from the ceiling. The room is full of tattered cardboard boxes. There's an old desk in the corner covered in graffiti and names carved into its surface. A metal shelf is pressed against the far wall. It's dinted and the off white paint is peeling away.

I huddle against the cold brick wall. I'm not the only one here. There are four other students cowering against the wall. I've seen them around before but I hardly know them.

I clutch my leg as the blood streams through my fingers. It's thick and sticky as it spreads across the palms of my hands. The pain numbs out all other feeling.

I can feel my heart pounding inside my chest sending fear racing through my vanes. The fear poisons my whole body, paralysing me and making it harder to breathe.

The man has left the room, locking the door behind him. We're plunged into silence. The eerie, hushed sound is broken up by heavy, shallow breathing. I dig my nails into my leg and cover my mouth with my other blood-smeared hand, desperate to stop myself from screaming.

"God," one of the boys sigh heavily, closing his eyes and trying to imagine somewhere better. The colour has drained from his face leaving him pale and sickly looking. A clouded bruise darkens his forehead.

"W-why aren't the police coming?" a girl stammers, her voice weak with anxiety. She's jumpy and her grey eyes dart rapidly around the basement.

"Because he has hostages," the other boy murmurs, shifting a little. His dark brown eyes flicker over me. "How bad is it?" he asks He crawls across the concrete floor and over to me.

Clenching my jaw I take my hand away from her mouth. My breath almost immediately steals away from me. Slowly I peel my hand away from the bullet wound. Blood runs over my fingers and the palm of my hand. My jeans are soaked red in my blood. The edges of the wound are frayed and raw. My leg's already begun to swell, becoming fleshy and torn.

"Shit," the boy mutters.

"Oh God," the girl cries. Tears run down her cheeks as she begins to panic. "He's going to kill us," she chokes, "He's going to shoot us."

"He's not going to kill us. He needs us to keep the cops out," the other girl snaps. Her eyes flash over all of us. They're strong and a dark brown. She looks so determined, clinging to the feeble hope of survival.

The boy glances over his shoulder at her. He gives her a harsh look as if giving her a silent warning. Even in this light I can see the similarities in their shadowed faces.

He turns back to me and stares at the bullet wound. "It's not as bad as it could have been," he breathes. He looks so calm and composed. The only thing betraying him is his trembling hands.

"We're going to die," the grey eyed girl begins to sob.

"Marissa we're not going to die," the boy insists. His brown eyes flicker over the bullet wound. "We need to stop the bleeding," he mumbles. He glances over his shoulder at the girl. "Marissa can I use your belt?" he asks. He keeps his voice smooth and calm.

The girl's fingers tremble as she tries to undo the buckle. She fumbles with it for a few moments before finally undoing it. She takes off her brown leather belt and passes it over to the boy. "Thanks," he murmurs.

A shudder of pain ripples through my body as the boy wraps the belt around my leg. "What's your name?" the boy asks. I just stare at him, stunned and unable to form a logical answer.

He glances up at me, his eyes meeting with mine. "It helps keep people calm," he explains. I nod weakly and draw in a deep breath. I can feel my voice knotting inside my throat. "Amy," I say quietly. My is voice broken by pain and fear. I swallow the ball my voice has formed in my throat and watch the boy slip the leather strap through the buckle. "You?" I manage to say.