I finished watching L.D.S.K. and this whole idea came to mind. I couldn't help but want to pen it, and the result turns out not a half hour after the episode ends. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing. Any seeming inaccuracies are caused by the mind of a distruaght 17 year old. She isn't clear on the whole situtaion, and since this is her take form the sidelines, she only sees what she sees, and nothing else. I am hoping that people intellegent enough to understand Criminal Minds can understand this. Thank you! (Bows calmly off the stage)
I had just turned 17. I was able to drive, and therefore able to drive my brother to the ER when he twisted his ankle so badly playing football with some friends thathe couldn't drive himself.
I was there that night. I sat on my brother's lap like I did when I was five and he, ten. I stifled sobs as I watched the most terrifying events unfold.
My brother and I walked into the ER at the exact wrong time. I was about to go to the desk to ask the woman for the forms we needed when she was hailed by two men. I heard them identify themselves as FBI. I had heard about the sniper that shot 11 people in the past few weeks, and that was the first inkling I had that something was not right. They spoke for a moment before the younger of the two jogged off. His partner stopped him, and he slowed to a walk. I was about to tap the woman on the shoulder when the doors burst open.
A man strode in, carrying what looked to my untrained eye like a machine gun. My insides froze as I stumbled back. He hit the younger FBI agent before using a security officer or a paramedic or something like that as a shield. I heard him make the comment that nothing less than a head shot would take him down without him pulling the trigger. I didn't know what full automatic was in weapons terms, but it sounded really, really bad. I stumbled backwards, screaming as he shot out what must have been the fuse box. The lights went out.
Under the eerie orange glow of the emergency lights I had a perfect front-row view of the scene. My breath hitched and my breathing became inarguably shallow.
The man, he had to have worked at the hospital somehow, held the agents at gunpoint. He had the security guard bind their hands after he checked them both for weapons.
By now my stomach was in knots. I couldn't think except to crawl into my brother's lap and curl up. He put his arms around me and I felt safer, like when he protected me from bullies when he was in High school and I was only in middle. But my mind was still thick, thoughts passing through one by one, a toy train on tracks that a child had covered in penut butter and jelly. What will happen? Am I going to die? I don't want to die, yet. If I die, who will tell my online friends that I'm gone? A lump grew in my throat and my eyes burned with tears, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.
My brother squeezed me, as if sensing my thoughts. "Mom is waiting back home. We won't die while she's waiting for us." He said softly into my ear. I nodded, but didn't relax. The mother had cleaned her child's toy train, though, and my thoughts ran easier.
I watched as the older agent started talking down on his partner. My initial thought was that he was being incredibly cold. How could someone say those things? I was shocked when he asked to 'kick the snot' out of the younger officer. What was he thinking! I knew there had to be a reason. Somehow, somewhere. My heart pounded triple time. He knocked the man to the floor and began kicking him. I gasped, burying my face in my brother's shoulder.
I heard the shooter ask if the agent felt better. There was a pause and then a gunshot. I may have screamed. Or maybe it was in my head. The SWAT team burst in just then. I unburied my face only to smell the pungent stench of fresh blood. The coppery tang filled my nostrils. I stared at the body on the ground.
"The younger agent shot him." My brother whispered. I saw the SWAT team unbinding the FBI agent's hands, and I saw the gun in the boy's grip. His hand was shaking. I know my entire body had to be shaking. How could he be so calm? He just shot a guy! My insides melted, reformed again into knots and turned to jello. My legs wouldn't hold me, they were so weak from fear.
A nurse came and made rounds to everyone, asking who all was okay and who needed help. The hospital resumed business as soon as it could, helping those in shock, those who had needed the medical attention before the whole incident occurred. I immediately told my brother I needed to go out for air, and I followed the SWAT team out, passing them as soon as I could and heading for the parking lot where the mini-van was. I saw the two agents sitting behind an ambulance. They were talking. I couldn't help but wonder if the younger agent felt any animosity towards his partner. If the older man felt any regret.
I watched as the older man left and the younger man turned as well. The gun was still in his hand. He dropped something into a black man's hand before walking off to an SUV.
I put the key in the ignition and turned on the stereo. I smiled as the car filled istelf with pointless bubblegum pop and I tried to drown out the memory of gunshots, screams and the smell of blood. My eyes relieved themselves of the burn, and I cried until I was almost sick.