It was just an average day at South Park Elementary

A day unremarkable in every way as the children filed through the halls to the cafeteria for an undoubtably mediocre lunch.

The melody of laughter and conversation torn asunder in an instant by the reverberation of screams and gunfire.

Harmony replaced by chaos.

Kids scattered in every direction through clouds of crimson mist and ricocheting lead.

Without thinking or saying a word Kyle grabbed Stan's hand and crashed through a door into a nearby janitor's closet to shelter themselves from the crossfire – piling crates, boxes, and almost anything he could move in front of the door.

The boys stood trembling with fear as agonized cries pierced the door amidst the barrage.

Silence.

"K-Kyle…," Stan quivered, focusing on the blood dripping from his fingertips.

His face paled and his knees felt weak.

Kyle turned to his friend to observe the right side of the boy's coat and sleeve soaked in blood – a small puddle forming on the ground beneath him.

"Stan?!"

Kyle lunged across the small room just in time to catch him as he collapsed, sitting him gently on the ground.

"Oh, God…," Kyle panicked, accessing his friend's condition.

"I don't wanna die," Stan sobbed, nearly hysterical.

"You're not gonna die," Kyle looked him in the eyes and steeled his voice, "But you need to calm down," he whispered, "That person could still be out there, and we can't let him know we're in here… Okay?"

Stan sniffled and nodded his head.

"I – I need to take your jacket off to see where you're hurt," Kyle concluded.

Stan nodded in agreement.

Kyle carefully removed the injured boy's coat.

Stan winced in pain.

"Sorry!" Kyle flinched.

With the offending clothing removed Kyle could clearly see a bullet wound through his t-shirt to right shoulder area – a steady flow of blood oozed from it.

"I need to find something to stop the bleeding…," Kyle said aloud as he rummaged through the shelves and drawers in search of something – anything.

"Here!" he exclaimed, pulling some hand towels out of a drawer and tying a few together before moving back to Stan.

"There isn't a first aid kit in here, but I think this will work to slow down the bleeding," Kyle took a deep breath, "I'm going to have to tie this tight around your shoulder… It's going to hurt… Probably a lot…"

Stan inhaled sharply, "O-Okay…"

Kyle bound the wound as quickly as he could.

Stan yelped.

Kyle slid onto the floor next to his friend.

The two sat in an eerie silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"Kyle…," Stan agonized, adrenaline wearing off, "… It hurts…"

"I know, dude," Kyle comforted, "Someone should be here really soon. Just hang in there, okay?"

A lightheaded Stan struggled to remain alert, blood seeping through the makeshift bandages, "I – I don't know if I can…"

"Like hell you can't!" Kyle snapped, "You're the toughest person I know…"

"Kyle… I'm… I'm sorry if I haven't always been the best friend to you…," Stan choked out.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Don't do this, dude…"

"I – I know we fight a lot and sometimes I say mean things, but I never really mean them."

Kyle turned away, tears welling in his eyes, "I know… Me neither."

"C – Can you tell my mom -," he was abruptly cut off.

"Dammit, Stan!" A furious Kyle cried, "I'm not telling anyone anything because you are going to tell them! You are going to be okay!"

The weakened boy tried as hard as he could to muster a response, but it was no use; he slumped over into unconsciousness.

"Stan?!"

The closet door was kicked in, "Police! Hands! Let me see your hands!"

Some ran from the scene into the arms of distraught parents; others left the scene on stretchers, maimed and bloody – clinging to life; the unluckiest left the scene in body bags.

An anything but average day.