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Sue – Chapter 3.
Becky and I were in my office when the first screams of the shootings hit us. Some of them were so ear-piercingly loud that my whole body shuddered in protest, and I knew immediately that leaving my office would not be a good thing to do. So I did the most sensible thing anyone could. But before I did I managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the corridor...
People were on the floor, kneeling down with their hands held above their heads, screaming at the tops of their lungs in protest as they breast swift bullets. I see a girl named Jenna slump over into nearby lockers, her normally perfect features contorted into nothing but absolute terror as the blood poured out of where the bullet hit her and stained her Cheerios uniform. I felt a huge pang in my stomach as she turned her head towards me and caught me watching her.
'Help me' was all she mouthed, but it was too late: her eyes began to close and her head fell onto her shoulder, she took one final shaking breath in and let it out again, until becoming completely still.
I shut the door to the corridor quickly, slamming the bolt across and positioning a chair underneath to make sure nobody could get in from the outside. I turned round and harsh, thin eyes were met by the large, gentle ones I knew so well.
'Coach?' Becky asked. 'What's happening out there, Coach?'
'The school's under attack,' I told her softly, her already wide eyes widened even more. 'But you mustn't panic! Whatever you do, don't panic. I know that seems like a hell of a big deal, Becky, but promise me you'll stay calm and do exactly what I tell you to.'
Becky nodded. 'I promise.'
'That's my girl.' I cast a look around my office. The blinds over my window were still open and displayed everything that was happening in the corridor: less and less people seemed to be running past in a bid for freedom now. I knew then that locking both little Becky and I in here was the best chance we had of surviving longer than those out there.
'Maybe we should draw the blinds...' Becky started but trailed off as I shook my head.
'It'll draw too much attention,' I told her, 'out best bet is to stay sat against the wall the window's on. They can't see that we're in the room then.'
Becky listened to what I told her to do, just as I'd asked, and sat hunched with her arms holding her knees up to her chest tightly. I sat down beside her and we waited for what seemed like forever. Neither of us spoke a word to one another; we were too consumed in thought. The running and screaming and firing of bullets seemed to just become background noise. It was like after being in a room with a clock long enough that you no longer hear the tick anymore. My mind would not stop whirring through escape plans and worries about what we were going to do if we were kept her for longer than 24 hours, what they would do if they found us, whether it would be safe to try and move further and further towards the entrance of the school by travelling from classroom to classroom. The bullets stopped eventually: everyone was either dead, hiding or had escaped. I hoped to God that the majority of McKinley had been able to achieve the latter.
There was a weird, ominous silence left in the wake of the bullets. It was as if the whole building was mourning what was sure to be hundreds of dead bodies lying in the corridors, classrooms and cafeteria. Becky began to weep gently beside me, making no noise at all, but I could see the tears slipping down from under her glasses and rolling down her cheeks. I secured my arm around her shoulders protectively, to let her know everything was all right. I knew such reassurances probably weren't a good thing to be handing out in this situation, but I needed her to stay strong and hopeful for the apparent struggle that lay ahead of us. She stopped eventually, and began to dose off on my shoulder.
When the bell went it made us both jump, and for a split second I allowed myself to believe it was home time, but then I realised there was no such thing. Not at the moment. My stomach growled and I began to realise just how hungry I was, which then brought a new worry to the front of my mind: how were we going to get food? I daren't try opening the door, because who knew whether the criminals were still in the building.
I looked down at Becky, and the way she was looking up at me I thought she just was pretty hungry too, and had the same worry about on her mind. But the question that escaped from her mouth was much too general to be just about food.
'What are we going to do, Coach?'
'I don't know, kid. I really don't.'
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