"Are you ready, Ken?"
"Shit, dude. I don't know how you do this. We haven't even left the car and I'm freaking out…"
Kenny stared out the passenger window, wishing he'd just stayed in bed tonight.
Kenny and his brother were sitting outside a local convenient store. Kevin McCormick has done this before—a stick-up-robbery. He wasn't the slightest bit nervous. But, this was Kenny's first time. Their family is poor, and Kenny knows that they need the money, but deep down (unknown to everyone else) he's still got some morals he'd like to stand up for.
Kenny let out a long sigh as his brother held out a gun for him to take.
"I can't do this."
"Alright, listen, Kenneth," his brother rarely used his whole first name against him; "We don't have time for second thoughts. If you're gonna do it, then man-the-fuck-up, but if you're not, then you better walk home, because I'm doing this with or without you."
Kenny sat there, silent and unmoving for a few seconds staring at his brother, hoping for some sign that this was just a joke and that they could both go home—no such luck. He let out another deep sigh before sliding one of his brother's solid black ski-masks over his head and taking the shiny weapon in his shaking hand.
Kevin mimicked his brother's movements (minus the shaking) and then stared at his brother.
"You ready?"
Kenny took in a deep breath, "Yeah. I guess. Let's just get this over with."
They both exited the car quickly. Kenny couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as they crept along the side of the building, feeling like he was in a video game.
Kevin went first, busting through the door, into the almost empty store and shouting at whoever the unfortunate bastard was behind the counter, "Alright, give us all the money in the register and I won't shoot you, got it?"
Kenny, who had followed his brother in, stopped dead in his tracks. The small, blonde boy behind the counter looked as if he had already been shot, as if he was dead—he didn't move a muscle.
"Listen, kid, we don't have all night. Just give us the goddamn money."
The boy remained still. Kenny silently thought that he might have had a heart attack and really was dead, just standing there. He couldn't even see him breathing. Apparently his brother thought differently.
Kevin took a few more steps toward the counter, but Kenny stayed put.
"Okay, seriously. I am going to count to three, and if you don't give me all the fucking money in the register I'm going empty this gun on you."
The boy's eyes flickered from Kenny (who hadn't moved from his crouched position at the door) to Kevin about a hundred times. At least he isn't dead, Kenny thought, relieved.
"One…"
Come one kid, just do it.
"Two…"
He's not joking—the gun is loaded. Please, just get the money.
"Thr—"
"Stop!"
Kenny had moved without even knowing. He ran up to his brother and grabbed the barrel of the gun, shoving the aim to the ground. The gun went off and Kenny went to the floor.
Everything became suddenly hazy. His leg hurt. His brother grabbed Kenny's abandoned gun, ripped the ski-mask off Kenny's head and ran out the door. He became suddenly aware that the boy from behind the counter was now at his side, talking to him.
"K-k-kenny? Are you okay?" Kenny could see the small boy shaking.
Kenny glanced down at his own leg and realized just how much blood there was and just how dizzy he was getting.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't know you worked here. I thought it would be fine. Kevin said it was fine. It's not fine." Kenny knew he was rambling, but didn't know how to stop. His leg really hurt and the room was starting to spin really fast. "I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry, Butters…"
Kenny could tell the smaller boy was crying now and knew that he was talking to him, but couldn't make out any real words.
The room was spinning so fast now that Kenny thought he might throw up. The edges of his vision started to blur. The darkness began to close in until everything was black and suddenly he wasn't aware of anything anymore.
