Bullet

Fear crawled at my throat as I paced the hospital floors. White tiles that were too clean to be in this building. A building where sadness surrounds the place making people fiddle in their seats and jump when the emergency doors open.  Nurses and doctors were running around, yelling orders at people who needed help. Blood and rubble covered some of the patients making them look like a three-year-old splashed paint on them. Parents sitting in the uncomfortable chairs staring at the wall with worried looks on their faces. I couldn’t even pause to clean up, blood covered my hands and face, dirt covered me entirely. Running through the school’s hallowed halls to the busy hospital to get help had been tiring. I don’t even think I could catch my breath yet. My hands ran through my greased up hair. Pieces of ceiling tile and cardboard fell helplessly to the floor. Screams fill my head as I remembered what had taken place. Gunshots, screams, diving under the library table. Copper, the smell filled my nostrils and my throat closed up and filled with bile. Her blood. I started pressing my hands against my ears. Make the noise stop. Please make it stop.

Do you love me?

The hard chairs scattered as I tripped and fell in front of the trash bin. My stomach now empty.  Seventeen years in that school and nothing like this has ever happened before. A senior. We were about to graduate in a few months. We were both making the leap to attend Stanford. A fresh new start in a new world. She didn’t need to be hurt. I didn’t want to carry her here to the hospital only to have her stolen away by the medical people. I don’t know where she is. Where is she!?

I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.

Nobody knew the guys who walked into the school. They were older though. Twenty or twenty-five. I don’t know. It was probably completely random. She was chosen at random to be shot. Who the hell does that? I swallowed. And again. I didn’t want to repeat the routine of emptying the contents of my stomach. My hand came up to touch my chest to relieve the pain residing there when something cold came into contact with my hand. Round and silver. Engraved with the number fourteen. She had given the necklace to me on our anniversary. Our number. The pendent was cold. Too cold.

Well, I love you.

There were shoes standing beside me that I didn’t notice before. Who was it? I looked up and saw a white coat. Oh a doctor. Her doctor! My eyes blurred as I saw his mouth talking. My ears were ringing. Squinting I tried to read his lips. I’m sorry. Face burning with fire as I felt tears course down my cheeks. An acid that I had no control over spilling from their sockets. Something was placed in my hand, round, cold, probably as cold as her. No, she would always be warm. She was a good-hearted person, a giver. A necklace with fourteen diamonds in a circle, a never-ending life, a life to be forever lived out in happiness. A promise to always love her forever. 

So I wrote this on whim on day and finally today I've decided that I would publish this on my blog. Those who read this, if you would ever be so kind to leave something for me whether on Facebook or my Twitter about what you thought. Critique it. This is the only way I know how to get feedback on something I wrote and how to use it to make me a better writer overall. 

Thanks :)