⚠️TW: Violence against children and blood⚠️

BAM

I hear a shotgun out in the distance. The class freezes. We look around in a daze while Mr. Valentine is hastily locking the door with some mechanism and doing all of his training for when this would happen.

"Everything will be okay. You guys are safe. Go to my cabinets and grab textbooks. Then go to the corner where my desk is and stay quiet." Mr. Valentine says in a hushed voice, but still loud enough to where we could hear. I could tell he was stressed. We all were.

We did as we were told and stayed quiet while doing so. Some people were crying, some people were confessing things, and some were texting loved ones and saying their goodbyes. It was a lot to handle with so much going on.

I look towards our teacher and see him doing something odd. He was looking out the window on our door, which was supposed to be covered, as if looking for something. I though maybe he was looking for the shooter, but then I looked at his fingers and saw him counting. 5...4...3...what would happen when he gets to the last number? 2...my heart starts racing.

Once his fingers hit 1, the glass shatters. Screams echo through the halls. I look back at Mr. Valentine to see if he got shot, but I saw something else. He was tossed a gun through the shattered glass. I had a feeling what was coming next.

He turned to us with a sorrowful face. "I'm sorry kids...I have to." All of us look at him with suprise, anger, but mostly fear that he would actually fire his weapon.

"It's just...this school has done nothing but torture me! They say things will get better but they never do! Your principal harasses her employees every day! Don't you see I have to do this? That this school needs to be taught a lesson?" He says, gun still in hand ready to fire at the innocent lives infront of him.

This makes me realize, the gunshot wasn't a shooter ready to take his first victims, but a distraction for the real shooter to take charge. Mr. Valentine, my math teacher, was the school shooter all along.

"You don't have to do this! Can't you just quite?!" I scream out, trying to save my life and others.

"It's not that easy Jonathan! I would say you'll get it when your older, but I don't think you will make it to that point. I'm sorry." A shot is fired. We all scram. A couple guys go out the window. I go to follow, but see some girls who are to scared to jump. I decide to help them.

I help them out, one by one, as I hear our classmates behind us, screaming. Once the last one is on the ground and safe, I go to jump. I was too late.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest. I put my hand where it hurts, pull my hand up to my face, and all I see is blood.