Hundred Words

Ten

Ten

I have to say, the one major downside to owning a house right up against the beach are the people. I'm not trying to sound any bit like an anti-socialist or anything like that, it's just that lots of people will come traipsing through our side yard thinking they can just waltz onto the beach, no problem. But they shouldn't! It's the equivalent of me running around someone's backyard for a couple minutes.

So imagine my frustration when I was cutting the tomatoes and a man walks past the foggy kitchen window.

"Hey." I mouth, knowing he can't possibly hear me through the glass. "Nuh-uh." Now. I'm shaking my head. "Go the other way!" If only he could hear me.

He is clad in black; black leather jacket, polished shoes, black sweatpants and shirt. He seems about my age, maybe a little bit older. A high schooler. I don't know how he plans on going swimming in that outfit. But, he's still trespassing on my property.

Finally, he notices my antics. As quick as he looked, he turns forward as if he never saw me and continues on. I tap on the glass, stomping my foot and clenching my fists. The audacity of some people! A frown seems to cross his face, curving down in a crisp angle. He turns back toward me, and I expect him to leave. Instead, he grabs something from his belt. It shines in the sunlight like dark water, smooth and impossibly gleaming.

It's a gun.

Oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

I duck, shielding my head with my hands on instinct, even though against a bullet they are useless. I could die. I start to fall backwards, not knowing what I would do once I hit the ground.

I don't hear the shot, but everything slows down. The glass falls from the window like a blizzard of glass, tiny mirrors that are probably reflecting my ice-cold horror. I know I land on them, but the sharp shards of crystalline glass can't compare to the white hot pain searing through my shoulder, not unlike the shaky, ripping bite of a feral dog who won't let go.

People always say that life flashes before your eyes in life-changing instances. I only remember Jess, my journal, Eli, Mia, and mom. And the butterfly, Sunny. I am trapped, like her.

Then everything goes dark.