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Bronwyn Hayes

I looked down. I was trembling. The gun, small but lethal, lay in the palms of my hands perfectly. Blood underneath and around the gun while tears dripped onto it. The school was on lockdown, an alarm going off. The sound ringing through my ears, everything blurry and slow motion. I looked around the room. A mass of bodies covering the wooden flooring. Books and papers that had fallen during the chaos now soaking up the blood.

Did I regret what I had done? No, I regretted nothing, I didn’t believe in regrets. I thought learning from wrong doings was much better than wasting time regretting things. I did what had to be done.

The day had come. I had decided to become a better person. With the world falling apart in front of my eyes – over population, global warming, terrorism and racism – I said to myself that I should do my best to help improve it, even just a little. I usually took the bus, but I felt like walking this morning. Helping the environment as well as my mind.

By the time I entered the school my daily dose of maths class was over. Thank god. There was also a scheduled talk about gun safety and to how protect yourself from a shooter. I always felt lying on the ground anticipating a shooter to come in and kill you was stupid. But that was just me.

The shriek of an alarm went off and rang throughout the school. The teacher ran to lock the door. She slammed onto the ground, I saw an ocean of blood stream out of her left eye. She looked like a fish that had just been caught, lifeless and floppy. Shattered glass surrounded her like a tangled hair mosaic. A hand reached in the hole of the absent glass and turned the doorknob very slowly. We all lay lifeless and silent.

I heard shrieks, screams and roars. Then silence. The booms louder than a nuclear explosion. I opened my eyes to see the shooter’s back turned. I stood up silently, one breath and I was also dead. He turned around eyes blood-shot and wide open and he pointed the gun at me. He had a look of emptiness on his face. I said nothing and stayed still. He backed away and, in that brief, second I grabbed the gun. As I closed my eyes I gave one exhale and a body dropped to my feet.

I looked down. I was trembling. A small gun, a lethal one lay in the palms of my hands. I was sobbing, tears dripping on the gun. The sound of the alarm ringing through my ears. Everything felt like it was blurry and in slow motion. I looked around the room. A mass of bodies covering the floor. Paper and books soaking up the blood of somebody’s loved one.