October 18, 2011
5:25 PM
Five hours, seventeen minutes, one second.
Tick
Two seconds.
Tick
Three seconds.
That's how long they had been in this situation. The five of them, the five ladies of the special victims unit. Crusaders of justice. Trapped in a corner, with a gun pointed toward them. The gunman deranged, not willing to listen to reason.
Five hours, nineteen minutes, ten seconds. Eleven seconds.
The ticking of the clock helped them keep track of how long they had been there. Each little click, seemed to take a year. Each hour, an eternity.
The scene looked grim, their chances of survival slim at best. Olivia Bensen and Amanda Rollins, once strong detectives now weaponless and injured. Melinda Warner, the medical examiner who was now hoping she wouldn't become one of the bodies on her table. And Alex Cabot and Casey Novak, the proud prosecutors who, while experts in serving justice to criminals, were clueless when it actually came to the dangerous aspects of criminal justice.
This was not how any of them expected their day to go. They all had their own problems they were juggling. Just when they thought they had possibly gotten their live under control, this happens.
Five hours, nineteen minutes, twelve seconds.
Tick
Thirteen.
Tick
Fourteen.
The five of them did their best not to make eye contact with their man. They all figured he would snap if someone looked at him the wrong way.
Five hours, twenty minutes, thirty two seconds. Their captor jerked his arms. Olivia did her best to keep calm, using her best poker face. She was analyzing the situation, planning on how to possibly talk to him. How to escape. What she would say to those important to her if she made it out alive.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Five hours, twenty one minutes, eighteen seconds. The gunman kept nervously glancing around the room. Melinda took a deep breath. Why hadn't she left five minutes sooner like she planned on in the first place. Why did she have to have had that craving for those cheesy fries. Why, out of all the times in the world, did her body choose now to feel sick?
Tick. Tick. Tick
Five hours, twenty two minutes, nine seconds. He looked frantically at the clock. Alex Cabot realized how hard she had been holding her hands. She regretted he decision of taking the night off. For so long, she had been wanting to spend some time with her friends. To feel like something more than the heartless bitch at work who's level head made obtaining criminals that much harder. Maybe this was the universe's way of punishing her for it.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Five hours, twenty three minutes, fifteen seconds. The man's grip around his gun tightened. Casey was breathing heavily. She was trying to keep her mind off the possibly of dying by thinking if happy things. Being a prosecutor, her family. Her niece and nephew, that time at the zoo. The possibility that she would die, leaving those dependent on her lost. She couldn't die, could she?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Five hours, twenty four minutes, forty three seconds. A fire seemed to light in his eyes. Amanda Rollins felt her eyes. They were wet, itchy, warm. She thought back to when she transferred from Georgia to New York. How stupid it was. Nobody liked her, but she tried her best. She just didn't realize how in over her head she was. Or, maybe she did, but she didn't want to admit it. Either way, this was her fault. If anybody died, she hoped it was her. She couldn't live with the guilt.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Five hours, twenty five minutes, one second.
Tick
Two.
He raised his gun.
Tick
Three.
Insanity was in his eyes, a lack of compassion combined with determination and rage.
Tick
Four.
He looked at his five hostages, and fired with one single shot.
Bang
"No!"
Tick
Five.
A body fell to the floor, yelping out in pain.
Tick
Six.
How did this happen?
Just something that came to my mind late at night, that I wanted to write out before going to sleep. Thoughts? Comments? Critizisims?
Thank you for reading!
~Jeanne
~Jeanne