Hello! I recently became addicted to Skyrim -(SERIOUSLY addicted) Shut up parenthesis. (No.) ANYWAY, I recently began playing and I adore it! So, I'm writing a fanfic that began circulating in my head. This is my first fanfiction, so please go easy on me! Enjoy!
Six hours.
About six hours of constant game play. That might be a record. Especially when the beginning time is one o'clock.
I violently strike the paddle as my screen avatar slashes a bandit. That must've been the millionth that I crossed. When she fell I smile and begin looting her. I take her coins and her iron mace, but I leave her clothes on her. Hide armor doesn't fetch a high price in any market of Tamriel.
"ERIKA!" I jump when two fingers jam into my sides as the person behind me yells. The paddle clatters onto the floor, making me worried it's broken.
I turn to see my blonde best friend standing behind me laughing herself to death. "Brit." I growl dangerously.
She wipes a tear from her eye as the laughter doesn't end. "I couldn't stop myself." She says, "you looked so focused that someone needed to scare you."
"Well brava," I applaud her, "because of you I think I had a minor heart attack!" It's not long before we're both laughing. It really is funny.
Mom passes by the doorway to the family room to see the scene of us and she grins. "She skyrim-ed out again, huh?" She asks Britney.
"'Skyrim-ed out?'" I clarify. She nods, and both of us look at Britney. "Tell me I'm wrong." She defends, hands up to protect herself if I attack her. "If you wanted to, you'd live in Skyrim."
"I would." I agree wholeheartedly. "What time is it?" I wonder aloud, looking around for a clock.
"Seven oh four." That pretty much slaps me.
"WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!" I wail as I take the stairs two at a time to get up to the front door.
Britney and I jump into her car and begin the "To School Race 5000," since this isn't the first time I've made us almost late. And as we were right down the road from school a terrible thing happened.
A freaking red light. "Gosh darn it!" I yell, hitting the dashboard in despair. "We were so close."
We hear the bell ring and just die inside. Late for homeroom. As we run through the hall to get there before anything else, we just begin thinking to ourselves, 'crap! Can this day get any worse?'
We forget that is the last thing you want to think, say or imply on days like this.
Turns out both Britney and I left our homework at our houses, my favorite pair of jeans are starting to de-fabricate, and I'm failing English. And as I am tortured throughout Geometry, the worst thing happens.
The P.A system crackles to life. "Attention, there is a shooter in the building." Our principal's every-scratchy voice informs us. "This is not a drill, we need everyone to lock the doors and keep hi-"
The sound of a gunshot echoes over the speakers. "Now that that windbag's taken care of," a male voice says with a certain voice that sent chills up my spine, "I can turn my attention to the student I need.
"Erika Frost," I wince at my own name coming from a murderer's lips, "come down to the office and I'll leave everyone else alone. Don't, and I'm afraid I'll have to find you." The sound clicks off and the tension thickens. All eyes in my class (of about twenty kids) just stare at me, like I've grown a second head.
What do we do? The thought comes. Die or run? Does it even matter in the end?
He's going to get what he wants. Another voice answers. Might as well try to keep others safe.
What would Mom do?
Run and hide. She'd let others take the fall for her, if it can to this.
Why me?
Why not you?
I can't do this!
What would Dad do? The critical thought asks.
My mind's eye shows me our fireplace at home, with a few pictures of Dad. One in his army uniform, and one of him and I playing at the park when I was little. Beside them is a urn, one I remember talking to often whenever I felt the need to talk to him. It's better to die and save lives than live and watch everyone you know fall around you.
I step out of my seat, despite Brit shaking her head vigorously. "See ya round, Brit." I salute her jokingly before walking as calmly as I can to what I know is certain death.
Reviews are totally welcome, and CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM is okay too! (Be as brutal as necessary) Hey, shut up! (I didn't say anything, I'm just text.)