Shot to the Heart

Chapter 8- Who Let Cupid Near the Shotguns?

Downstairs, Jayla was waiting for Alex to return. She knew he would come back. He'd never broken a promise to her. But there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that was un-ignorable. It had been awhile. And the banging noise had long since stopped, so one would suppose that would mean he would come back downstairs, right? Maybe she should go check on him. It would be the girlfriend-y thing to do, right?

"You got someone in this mall with you, hun?" Charlotte's raspy voice broke the silence.

"Yeah."

"Someone special?"

Jayla blushed. "My boyfriend. Alex. He's upstairs looking for, well, you right now."

"And he left you alone? Not much of a boyfriend, hm." Charlotte tsked. "Oh well. You like him?"

"A lot."

"I had a guy, once. My husband. Stupid idiot." Nostalgia filled her ancient voice, softening it and lending it a bit of broken humanity. "Was out walking one day and he took me down by the lake, one of them real fancy houses. Said someday when we were married, he'd buy me a house like this. And it'd have a huge library with ladders and lamps, and the complete Harry Potter collection. I had all but forgot about it when on our wedding day he handed me the keys. Course, then he went and got himself blown up in the Gulf Wars."  A rueful laugh escaped her lips. "Oh well. Just goes to show you love doesn't survive anything. Anyone who believes that is just saying crap." A cynical look had settled into her aged face, one that spoke of hatred and unbelief.

"I don't believe that."

"Hun, I'm not saying what you guys have isn't nice, but it's not going to last. It's just infatuation, teenage infatuation."

"I don't believe that. I think we're different. See-"

Jayla had forgotten to whisper, and in her ferver had begun to speak rather loudly.

"Alex is pretty much perfect. So perfect I'm running out of words to describe him. He's silly and funny and he lets me make awkward mistakes and he lets me be sad and tells me I'm beautiful and I don't need makeup and that I'm the perfect size. He lets me tickle him and he tickles me back and he's got the cutest laugh. He's adorable when he dresses classy, and he compliments me for looking classy. He puts up with me and all my madness, and that's pretty rare. So I choose to believe, believe in us. I choose to believe in love and in happiness, otherwise I would never have made it through this day. And I choose to believe he's up there, about to come down, and I choose to believe that he will keep his promise and return, because that's the type of person my Alex is."

Charlotte had kept silent through all of Jayla's sudden outburst. After it, her cynistic look was replaced with one of concern.

"Go look for him, hun. I'm fine. Go."

Jayla didn't question it. She ran away from Charlotte and up the escalator. Upstairs, she began to search the level.

 "Alex? Alex?" She called his name, making her way over to the juniors section.

"Oh my g-" Cold fear landed in the pit of her stomach because, there, of course, lay Alex.

Motionless. On the floor. A puddle of red spreading beneath him.

"No. No. No." She ran to him, dropping to her knees. Three bullet holes decorated his torso.She ripped off her cardigan and was about to press it to his stomach when a hand gripped her shoulder tightly.

Jayla screamed, loudly.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Something hard hit her in the back of the head, stunning her temporarily. Another shriek of pain splintered out, earning her another whack. It feld cold and metallic, but that sensation was quickly overwhelmed by warm dripping down her neck.

"Get off! Off! He's evil! Get away!" The powerful hand, which she now saw was attached to the shooter, pulled her backwards.

"NO!NO!" Hysterically screaming, she clung to Alex's arm. The shooter pulled her anyway. Jayla was forced to let go of Alex to avoid hurting him. As she was dragged away streaming, Alex stirred slightly, faintly moaning, "Jayla."

"Let me help him! LET ME HELP HIM!" Jayla fought against the shooter's grip. She had completely lost any sanity, fighting tooth and claw to get back to Alex. For all her ardor, it earned her several more whacks in the head, until she slumped down, dazed.

The shooter began babbling. Jayla stayed facedown, trying to clear her head. She felt a breeze down her middle- her shirt was ripped in the scuffle- and blood everywhere -hers or Alex's? or maybe Charlotte's?

Alex was dying. That thought focused her ore than anything. Alex was dying.

She struggled to her feet.

The shooter was swaying now, dancing back and forth. He waved the gun wildly.

"Don't get any closer! Hands up! Hands up!"

The world was swaying, but she raised her hands with effort. Suddenly, the shooter fired. The blast deafened her. Blinding, searing pain scorched the side of her face and sent her toppling to the ground again. Was she shot? Someone screamed. Lots of noise. Her hands went to her face. Pain, but no blood. Couldn't see out of her left eye. No bullet. But then-

Jayla whirled. Sure enough, Alex was slumped on his side, a fourth bullet hole now present in the middle of his chest. It looked like he had been crawling to her. Oh, Dear God, don't let him die.

The shooter was speaking again. She tried to focus on him. Her ears were ringing.

"-funny. It's funny. I think it's funny. See, missy, I've only got one bullet left, see. So funny." He leveled the gun at her chest. Pure terror shot through Jayla like, well, a gunshot, and suddenly words came tumbling out of her mouth.

        "Jayla Ehlertson. My name is Jayla Henrietta Ehlertson. My mother emmigrated from Germany when she was three. My father fell in love with her instantly. I have a younger sister named Avery. We have a dog and two hamsters, but one died and the other one's about to. We don't use butter in our house. I have a best friend. Her name is Felicia. She needs me. I have five other best friends, we're the Fab Five. They need me. I need them. I go to church every Sunday. I play in the band. I'm first chair. My section needs me. I have a grandmother and a grandfather and cousins and aunts and uncles and a lot of family and friends who will love and miss me."

        Oprah taught her this. Oprah said tell a shooter about your life and they're less likely to kill you. Oprah. How funny, she was about to die and all she could think of was Oprah Winfrey.

        The shooter hesitated. Adrenaline coursed through Jayla's blood. He lowered the gun. Thoughts of victory were just dancing through her head when suddenly up came the gun and the last bullet fired.