“C’mon bud, let’s go.” I look up with tearful eyes, hands tightly shut. Joel rests his hand on my shoulder and gives me a soft smile. “Let’s go.”
We’re in the car driving in absolute silence. The silence kills me, but I can’t say anything. “Y-you’re not mad at me?” I whisper, mustering up the little confidence I had. Joel chuckles ruefully, “Mate, I’m not angry, I’m just… fed up.” These two words hit me harder than a bullet.
I’m inside of the classroom, or what’s left of it. Heavily scarred corpses litter the classroom, their faces tore open from the gunshots. I cower in a corner, breaking into tears. It was a normal day; how did it end up like this?! Gunshots ring in the distance and I jump upon every shot. I hear screams of children running along the hallway, roaring in fear and some collapsing. A figure looms over them, wielding an AK-47 and stares at them menacingly. “P-please man…” I hear the kid beg, “L-let me go… I’ll pay yo-“ Gunshots and a second later I hear a large thump. From the corner I can see a little bit of the figures face. His mouth salivates with glee, clearly enjoying all the bloodshed and the violence. I close my eyes, trying to remember what was happening earlier that day…
“This is your third time, Alen.” I look up. “He started it,” I say uneasily. Joel stands in the corner, silent. The principal sighs and rubs his forehead. Automatically, he looks at Joel and said, “Mr Winters, I understand the backstory of Mr Alen over here, however this does not give him an excuse to break the nose of a fellow student. I highly recommend you switching him before I am forced to take drastic measur-“ “Y’know what, mate?” Joel says, walking closer to the table, “You can take this “recommendation” and shove it up your arse. He ain’t going anywhere.” The principle is clearly taken back, not used to being talked back like this. “Exc-“ “The little prick started it and Alen responded. It was an act of self-defense. He had full rights to break the fucker’s nose if he wanted to,” Joel says, staring coldly at the principle. “C’mon bud, let’s go.” Joel says to me, giving a soft smile.
My eyes open. I hear distant grunting, almost like struggling. Confused, I get up and crouch towards to door, peeking out. Almost immediately, I want to cry in relief. The shooter and Joel are stuck in a struggle, both pushing each other. Eventually, Joel turns around and grabs the gun and begins strangling the shooter. His face is red, desperately trying to free himself but Joel holds him tightly. Eventually, the shooter stops moving and goes limp. Joel lets him go and takes the gun. Seeing me, he runs towards me, and we both embrace. “Damn, I thought you died for a second there, lad.” Joel chuckles, brushing my face with his hand. Before I can reply, I heard a whistling noise and hear a groan. The shooter sticks a knife into Joels shoulder, twisting it. Wincing, joel grabs the shooters neck and smashes his head into a nearby locker. Getting up, he pulls out the knife, groaning. “Fucker.” he says, holding the wound. The shooter gets up and brandishes another knife. “C’mon then.” he taunts, clearly enjoying this.
Both exchange slashes, neither side getting a hit. The shooter slashes forward, but Joel grabs him by his arm and tries to stick it into his neck, but the shooter stops this by his free hand. “Now what are you gonna do?” the shooter says, face strained. “This.” Joel lets the knife drop and catches it with his other hand. Almost immediately, he stabs the shooters abdomen, removing it and stabbing it in his upper torso. In a fit of rage, he continuously removes the knife and stabs again, blood sprouting out from the wounds and staining his shirt. He finishes and sticks it into the shooters neck. He finally stops breathing and falls down, dead. Joel breaths heavily, clenching his wound. “You okay?” I say. “Joel chuckles. “Its gonna take more than a fucking shiv to stop me…”
A few hours later, the police swarm in and inevitably finds the corpse of the shooter. Joel, surprisingly, gets away. “I would’ve done the same,” one of the cops tell him. Students flock him, saying prayers and thank you’s. Joel chuckles weakly, holding his wound. I sit next to him. “How are you so brave?” I ask him. He looks at me. “I’m not brave mate,” he says, “I’m insane.”
I chuckle.