My backpack was ripped of off my back roughly, and I was sent careening forward with everybody else. I could vaguely see the outline of Nick's crouched figure and curly hair. I tried to fight my way over to him, but people created an impenetrable barricade.
On the PA, I heard our principal, Mr. Davis, shout, "Everybody, stay calm." Teenagers around him kept fighting their way towards the front of the building. "We need everyone to stop running and—" Another gunshot interrupted him and, if possible, made the students even more anxious to escape the tumultuous school.
A jumbled flow of students blocked my vision of Nick, and I furiously struggled to escape the horde and reach him. "Nick!" I screamed. Immediately, I knew it was useless; he wouldn't be able to hear me over everybody else's clamors. People shoved me closer towards the entrance, lengthening the distance between Nick and I. I hollered his name again in hopes of him hearing me.
More students pushed us forward; we were almost to the entrance. My feet stumbled over something which propelled me into the mass of people in front of me. I took a moment to glance down, and I saw Nick's trampled backpack.
Maybe he's close, I thought. Once again, I yelled Nick's name into the crowd. Another gunshot went off, and this time, it was extremely close. The people around me abruptly stopped moving and crouched down while covering their heads. I took this moment to see if I could locate Nick. My feet pounded on the tile floor as my eyes scanned over all of the heads to see if any of them belonged to Nick. God, please, just let me find my little brother.
For some reason, it was eerily silent until another gun shot rang out, and a girl released a terrified scream. I turned around and saw a looming figure with bulk shoulders. I quickly noticed that multiple shots had been aimed at the same spot. On the bullet proof glass doors, there was a gaping hole. Thousands of translucent shards of glass littered the floor and some of the students. A rifle was held tightly in his hands, and he stared at me with a warped smirk.
"Run, kid!" he shouted. I stared at him in total confusion until I saw another man, less intimidating, quickly approach the man with a replica of the rifle. The scrawny man had the gun to the large man's head and had pulled the trigger before I could inhale a proper breath.
My brain was signaling my body to get out of the way of danger, but I was transfixed on the dead man. His eyes were agape, and the twisted smile was still etched on his face. A minute hole in his forehead was gushing blood out in an effusion.
"…oh my God," I said aloud before I had the chance to realize it. As the bulking man's body fell to the ground, it gave way for the lean man to set his eyes on me. His rifle was still raised from his killing just seconds ago. I took in his appearance: short red hair that was styled in a buzz cut, pale white skin, and an overlarge jacket and pants that consumed his wiry body frame.
I threw myself on an open area of floor and continued to stay low. A blood-curdling holler was released as the gun was shot once more. More screams followed. Just let me find Nick. That's all I'm asking…please. I felt the students around me try to shift further back, away from this killer. I remained on my hands and knees as I crawled around, still searching for Nick. Footsteps trailed behind me, and I crawled into the girls' restroom. I swiftly stood up to stop the door from swinging open and attracting unwanted attention. Carefully, I removed my shoes and silently padded over towards a stall.
The graffitied door was open slightly. I approached it and saw the tip of a green converse on the floor. My heart began to beat rapidly, threatening to pound out of my chest. "Nick?" I whispered gently. "Is that you?"
The inhabitant of the stall didn't answer. I heard quiet, quick murmuring. I listened carefully, and heard: "Someday, someplace, somewhere, sometime, I will be. Someday, someplace, somewhere, sometime, I will be."
My mouth stretched into a triumphant grin. Tears began to gather in my eyes, wanting to escape. I blinked them back. My hands had lightly pushed the door back, revealing Nick. His hands, with scrapes on his knuckles, were still covering his ears, and tear tracks were visibly evident on his cheeks.
I gripped him tightly and pulled him into my chest. "Oh my God, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I looked at him and noticed that he still hadn't opened his eyes. "Nick, are you okay?" He didn't respond. I asked once more, "Nick, are you okay?" I had to be conscious of the volume of my voice; it echoed within the restroom. "It's me, Joe. I'm here, okay? Don't worry." I gave a feeble attempt to coax him out of the current state he was in.
He opened his eyes, and they were slightly red and swollen. "Joe…I need to go home. I have to go, now. I need to go home." He kept repeating himself, his voice rapidly growing in urgency.
"Buddy, we can't go home just yet," I tried to soothe him. We both heard hollers, and then a round of gunshots were fired off. Nick sunk deeper into me, his whimpering increasing. Nick released his hands off of his ears and brought them up to his head of curls. He fisted his ringlets and held his breath. "Breathe, Nick," I demanded.
"I—I can't," he cried for the first time. "Joe, I can't do this. I can't."