Save Our Sorry Selves

Chapter 4

Present

Monday

I didn't know what to do. I kept staring at the blank eyes of Peter, his oceans still having tears dripping. The bullets ripping the air were miles away, muffled. I only heard ringing, the ringing sound of silence. I saw people drop like flies left and right out of the corner of my eyes, but selfishly, none of them mattered. The only person who mattered in this room was dead. Peter, the first boy, and only boy, to ever confess his love to me. My best friend that let me stay the night at his house each time my dad was drunk and extra angry. The boy who stayed up all night talking to me on the phone on school nights  when I couldn't sleep, which was at least twice a week with my insomnia. No, he wasn't gone. Just like Percy wasn't gone. They couldn't be.

I felt a pair of arms lift me  from under the armpits as I continued to stare at the lifeless face of Peter. "ATLAS SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT! GET UP! GET UP! RUN!" The voice belonged to Riley. How was she acting like Peter didn't just get his head blown off? "ATLAS GET UP NOW!" That final yell in my ear snapped me out of whatever dream or haze I was in. I Pulled myself up from Riley dragging my scrawny ass. She made it halfway across the gym before I made it back to reality. Riley gave me a concerned yet terrified look. I gave no expression back, because I felt nothing. I've been numb for a while, but now I felt so numb I ran towards the exit, not thinking about anyone or anything else, as usual. 

I ran down the hall, realizing that the song Pumped Up Kicks was playing over the intercom. Did Travis set up the music all by himself? Did he kill the principal and then had it timed to play? No, he told Peter he wasn't supposed to see the list till later, so that shooting was all planned, all timed. The hallway was long, I didn't know where to go, my legs were already sore after the mile. I decided to head to probably one of the worst places to hide... the bathrooms... the boys bathrooms. I swung the door open and turned my head towards the mirror just long enough to see my shoulder-length dark brown hair in my face, my green eyes bloodshot and wild, my skin looked paler. I turned back and headed towards the last stall. I slammed it shut, closed the lid to the toilet, sat on it, and pulled my feet up, hugging myself, rocking back and forth. I was going psycho wasn't I? My white running shoes had blood all over them, especially the bottom. And now the toilet seat was getting stained. The bullets were more distant but still very audible. 

***********************************************************************************************

Everything came back to this moment, the moment I was about to die. Chloe's screams, Travis' laughter, her blood seeping its way into my stall, my terrible timing, Travis' footsteps approaching me closer and closer, his auto pointed at my forehead. 

My breath was hitched in my throat. It was almost about to come out, but not quite. "Atlas Bender. You do realize you are at the top of my list. Not THE number 1, but close?" I didn't respond. I must have not given him the reaction he wanted, my expression blank, because he shoved the barrel to my forehead. It's cold metal on my bare skin. The truth was, I wasn't scared, not entirely. I wanted to die, I thought about the many ways I could kill myself, the easiest would be ODing my antidepressants. But I was a coward, even to kill myself. I wanted the world to end or something so I didn't have to deal with high school anymore or worry about college and my future career. But not like this. I didn't want the world to end like this because the world wasn't ending, only me. And the world would continue to go on with or without me, with or without any of the students who just died. 

"I don't wanna kill you right here, right now because you're one of the very last, but... you didn't obey my game bitch." "I don't give a damn about your game. Just fucking shoot me already." I say while gritting my teeth. I didn't want to die this way at all. Not in the slightest. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me plead for my life as Chloe did. 

He laughed, his evil laugh that made me want to vomit. But the laughing stopped and just as fast as he laughed his expression changed to anger, to rage. "Listen here, you are going to obey every. Single. Fucking. Word. I. Say. Got it?" He shoved the barrel deeper in my skin. I winced. There was definitely going to be a mark there for hours if I lived through this. I looked at him with my same blank, yet angry expression. "Why Peter? He never did a fucking thing to anyone." He paused for a minute, his black beady eyes examining my face. "What did he do?" He asked, obviously knowing the answer and just testing me. "Yea, I asked you fatty. What the hell, did he ever do?" He smiled, the creepiest smile I had ever witnessed. "He was best friends with you, liar." The last word made me stop my strong, I-don't-give-a-shit attitude. But before I could say anything, I saw a male figure flash and hit Travis in the skull with a loud thunk. My eyes followed his body as blood gushed out of the side if his bashed head. My eyes slowly looked up and went to whoever had just saved my sorry ass. 

The boy was 17 years of age, his dirty blond hair slightly messy, his chocolate eyes full of rage. His toned figure holding up a baseball bat with blood dripping down from it. His hair was blocking some of the view of his face, but I could see cuts and bruises forming along his strong forearms and biceps, to his muscular calves. He must have been in the locker room changing when the shooting started because he wasn't in his uniform from when I last saw him. He wore his black and red letterman with a black T-shirt underneath, with black athletic shorts, and white Vans. 

He looked up at me his eyes more wild than I've ever seen. "Well don't just sit there looking at his deadass." He said out of breath, forcing his signature smirks. I didn't move. I was shocked, again. "Well, aren't you gonna thank me at least?" His smirk still playing on his face. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt revealing part of his 6 pack. Jowen then extended a hand which I took reluctantly.