Men burst into the room fully armed. Bewildered, I leap to the floor, dragging Will down with me. We hide together, trembling under a table as gunshots fill the room. What's happening?
Metallic bullets echo in my ears. Screams and cries compete defiantly with the already deafening noise. Bullets fly haphazardly throughout the room, injuring many. And then the bullet that kills her. Miss Grayson.
It happens so slowly, yet so vividly. I can almost hear the tiny bullet smacking the life out of her. One moment standing; the next, dead. Her face is a mask of terror, surprise and then a sickening realisation. The metal ball hurtles towards her mercilessly and I gasp, already knowing her fate. What seems like hours but must have been milliseconds later, it hits her. Tearing through her skull, the bullet flies. Crunches of bone. A raw cry escaping her mouth. Her head spewing blood. So much blood. She falls gracefully to the already bloodied floor, her legs no longer capable of supporting her weight. The thud sounds terribly in our ringing ears. Her mangled body lying twisted on the floor. A pool of red. So much blood.
Nobody moves. For a second, everything is still, almost calm. Nobody can tear their gaze off of the body. I can only picture the coldness seeping over her skin. Her joints slowly stiffening. The pool of blood growing. So much blood.
It's only then that I realise that my hand is intertwined with his. We are connected at the hand like a couple, but we are not a couple. I struggle to feel any comfort from his warm grasp; instead I sob into his chest, broken. And once I begin to cry, I can't stop.
Everything blurs around the edges, irrelevant. My vision goes fuzzy and I lean into Will. He soothes me as I cry. Heaving tears rip through my throat like the singular bullet moments before. I try to speak, to compose myself, regain some dignity. But I'm inconsolable. A mess. We've always been protected from violence in our small village. Strict rules, a schedule, routines. A scenario like this I could never have imagined. We all go about our daily lives carefree, innocent, wrapped tightly in suffocating bubble wrap. But this is real.
Officers charge in, barking orders and aiming their guns at the armed men. They are forced to surrender and are hauled out of the building leaving us gaping in awe.
Someone takes the body away. Poor Miss Grayson: she may have been a bitter old lady, but nobody deserves that. So much blood. How is anyone capable of bleeding that much?
A lady comes over to me and Will, a fake smile plastered across her face like makeup. We don't smile back. "Right then guys should we pop you two back home?"
"But it's only—"
"Work finishes early today, and tomorrow you will report to me in the Library instead of work."
"But—"
"You're safe now, come on." She ushers us along behind her, eager to protect our vulnerability from this scene. But it's too late. Miss Grayson is dead.
YOU ARE READING
T R A P P E D
FantasiBased in the future where ordinary girl called Violet liked to blend into the shadows of society. She is hardworking and follows the rules like everyone else. But what should she do when everything she has ever known turns out to be lies?
