Before I fuck this up too badly I'd like to point out that even I'm not entirely sure how any of this started. I mean I'd like to think I do, but really that's all from conjecture, and lucky educated guesses, I use the term "educated" loosely here. But really, how does one go from complaining about an AP high school class whilst shoveling textbooks in and out of a locker that doesn't even fit them lying on their sides and swearing profusely when subsequently trying to shut the locker door that the books are trying to bully their way out of, only thinking of the mountains of homework that needs to be done tomorrow and thinking of how exactly they can not only be done, but done well enough for at least B as well as have 8 of hours of sleep, to quite suddenly being pushed to floor by a friend as a hail of bullets rain into the lockers above and the loud chatter of the hall turns into louder screams. School shooter, that's how. Spoiler alert I suppose but then again I mentioned that was just the beginning right? Well, I mean not exactly the beginning more like prologue but- look I'm just trying to get this down so I understand it so bear with me. Besides, I suppose to some degree I saw this coming. I mean what American high schooler doesn't imagine how they would react if a school shooting happened. Granted that average high schooler doesn't usually actually have to find out.
Anyway, that's how it started. I was on the floor under my friend Marcella, who had been shot in the arm , the side, and the back when she covered me and was crying into my shoulder gripping my arm with the hand on her wounded arm so hard I'm sure she made me bleed too. I pushed her over and rolled over on top of her, she whimpered as I did so from the shots to her back but I was determined not to let her get more. Now one may be asking whether or not I was scared at this moment, which is an utterly stupid question because of course I was scared. But I also knew that if I wanted to get both myself and Marcella out alive I had to be coolheaded about this. I'm not saying that worked, considering I was the suicidal idiot that then rushed the shooter after making it to my feet ignoring Marcella who gave my name a strangled cry. I'm sure I must have taken some of her fingernails with me the way my arm hurt when I took off. But time seemed to slow only after I'd left her grasp, slinging my backpack down my arm leaning away from it to keep myself on balance as I sprinted towards him. Yes, him. The shooter was a student, junior I think, in a blue hoodie too bright for his actions, orange and black sneakers, and sweatpants, all of which looked ratty and secondhand. I stepped on more than a couple bodies, and more than couple still alive kids as I went. In fact, even the Sig Sauer MCX rifle (don't ask me how I know right now, all in good time) looked worn, though it was obviously shooting fine as he managed to take down at least ten more before I was close enough that he turned to me, short light hair and heavy dark circles under his eyes. He might even be one of the homeless kids. I brought my backpack up with all the force I could muster right into his face, he took it with a grunt and the rifle fell from his hands. I dove for it and he stumbled back from the force of two twenty pound textbooks, four notebooks, two highlighters, four pens of assorted colors, and nineteen mechanical pencils that weighted the backpack. I yanked the gun to me by the back end and shifted the front to point at him but before I could fully do so, he grabbed hold of my headscarf (I should mention this one was my favorite) and jerked me back to him. I yelped and grunted on impact with his legs but fortunately, or unfortunately (depends on how you look at it really) managed to keep the gun and meleed him in the face ramming the front end up, then again in the crotch ramming the back end this time. He grunted and let go stumbling back a little his face going red. I rolled up to my feet, my knuckles straining so much they were white on the gun, and I hadn't noticed until now, but I was shaking. He was staring at me from the floor having tripped over two of about forty corpses around us. It was eerily quiet, I assumed everyone had evacuated and hopefully the police would be here soon. We were standing amid the bodies, the tile floor couldn't be seen under all the blood, but the front doors to the school was to my right, we were right here in the middle of the commons. He'd shot into the crowd of students that had all been running to their next class. I left my headscarf where it was, half pulled back off my hair and swallowed, stretched my fingers on the gun and shifted my feet, next to which was my backpack where it fell, they squished and I didn't look down just held the shooter's eyes. He looked scared, of me. The air was heavy and thick with fear and anticipation, somewhat hard to breathe, but seemed electrified with intensity. The intensity with which I watched him, and he watched me. I didn't dare turn around to find Marcella, already fearing the worst though her wounds hadn't seemed bad now in hindsight. She had a cello concert tomorrow. He moved to get up and on impulse I let loose a spray of bullets on the bodies around him. Fucking idiot (clarification, not him, me). He froze looking at me.
"Don't fucking move." Not sure he heard. I was pretty quiet, almost a whisper, in fact I wasn't sure he'd heard me at all. I was deafening myself with the thunder of my own thoughts going over what I'd do if he tried something, I didn't catch what he said, but it sounded something like "terrorist bitch" which shocked me and I went cold.
"The fuck did you just say?" Sounded a lot less in control than I wanted it to. The front doors were three sets of double doors and they all burst open to a flood of cops that streamed in under the banner the student government had put together that advertised spirit week next week, Monday was superhero day. All the guns snapped to me as I went to put the gun down, arms tired, they opened fire. I think I screamed as the bullets tore through the air towards me, vaguely aware of the shooter that had started towards me with a knife, don't know why, seems like a stupid move to me, just going to get us both killed. I think I screamed. But I also thought the sudden sucking feeling in the pit of my stomach and the green haze at the edges of my vision was me dying. So frankly I'm not entirely sure about anything within that 5 second span.
All I know was that when I crumpled to the floor wounded across the chest and in the side, I assumed that was the stab wound, the floor wasn't tiled, and wasn't covered in bodies. It was stone and craggy, like I was on a relatively flat part of a mountain or stony hill. I looked around confused, what the hell was this? The stone in front of me implied a path in front of me, less because I thought I could walk it, but more because the stone rose in steep walls around it, I mean, the stone path kind of looked stair-ish maybe if I squinted, looked at it sideways, and had been a good foot taller but it's not like I had anywhere else to go. Behind me the stone dropped suddenly into a sheer cliff with nothing but darkness beyond. I swallowed looking back at the path, it snaked up at a sort of steep slope, probably wouldn't be a problem but I was kind of in pain in multiple places, at the top of the slope the stone walls turned into spires around the small flat space there, on which there was a bright light. At this point I figured I should go towards the light. I mean I was probably, by all accounts dead right? Then why did I hurt so damn much? I then registered I was still holding the rifle and I could clearly feel the weight in my hands, at the dirt under my shoes. So, not dead?
Just then I noticed the light at the top form into a person, looked like a woman maybe, with a really funny tall hat, kinda like the pope's hat but taller. She reached out to me when I was trying not to giggle and I felt a sharp pain in my left hand. I yelped dropping the gun as the pain grew and burned. I hissed gripping the wrist of it with the other hand. The gun clattered on the stone and started to slide but my backpack caught it from going off the edge. How that got there I have no clue. The palm of my hand was glowing green throwing off small green sparks too, like a mini fireworks display. The pain gradually started to subside and I snuck a look at my palm thinking it'd be torn up and burned but instead lines where burned into my skin in the image of an eye, with rays coming off it from all around. Still hurt like a bitch though, I mean I thought my hand got flayed not just a glowing green burned hippie tattoo. Kinda like a papercut I guess. I took that minute to inspect my other wounds as I got to my feet and retrieved the gun stuffing it into the farthest back zippered section of my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. Bad idea, I swore at my own idiocy and took the time here also to right my headscarf, which in hindsight would have been a good bandage but I wasn't in the clearest of mindsets no matter how hard I had tried, as I started my trek up the stone semi stairs. I had three bullet wounds across my left shoulder all to my front and under my collar bone, two in my right arm, one in my right thigh and three peppered down my left leg, they must really liked my left side or something jeez. Oh and a knife wound to my side, don't think it hit anything major surprisingly. Still breathing fine, so not the lungs, pain didn't feel like it was particularly contaminated so not the stomach or liver, at least I didn't think so. I wasn't expert or anything, but thinking about it kept my mind off the pain from climbing the stairs though I did keep a string of cusses going the entire time. The light-pope-hat-lady was still at the top and was reaching for me the whole way. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to, I mean I was coming as fast as I could and no amount of her stretching was going to help, being that she was good forty feet up ahead of me.
That was when I heard the scuffling. I looked back, just a little done with everything, and saw spiders the size of warthogs scuttling up the stair after me. Leave it to a strange abyss to have fucking spiders. On second thought maybe this was hell? I didn't really stick around to find out. I didn't try to anyway. But running in that much pain was kind of a no go, basically I was just furiously hobbling and swearing kicking away the few that got too close. I debated getting the rifle out again but I was at the point where I could just reach the pope lady's hand at this point. I also seemed to be hallucinating just a little as the stone around her seemed to burn and curl in her light and soon it looked less like a craggy rock outcrop and more like a black garden that drank up her light greedily. Blood rushed to my ears and I strained and they burned and pulsed with my heartbeat. So I did what I figured was best and threw myself up the last couple steps and brushed her light fingers with my bloody ones. As soon as they touched, her light exploded and the stone under me fell away. I think I screamed here too. Would've made sense, I mean who doesn't scream when suddenly dropped right? Anyway last thing I remembered was charred rocky ground coming out of nowhere and me slamming into it face first. Very graceful I know. Obviously everything went black after that.