I’m so absorbed into my phone as I watch the angry texts come through from my mom from a stupid argument this morning that I don’t notice the body on the ground behind the desk until I have fallen over it. Tears fall down my cheeks as I notice the bullet hole in his chest. I fumble with my phone on the floor, frantically calling 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Um… My co-worker.. My friend… Was shot. I just found him here on the floor.”
“Okay, help is coming, does your friend have a pulse?”
“Yes but barely… only feel a little pulse… He’s getting really cold... “
“Okay, stay calm.”
I hate this. I think about this morning, god, that fight was stupid. I look at my phone and see the red battery in the upper corner of my screen.
“When is help coming?”
“SWAT is on the way.” The responder replies, although I don’t think they are.
I hear the familiar ‘beep beep beep’ as I watch my phone power off, the battery dead.
I hear footsteps down the hall, then another pair of footsteps, going at a faster pace, maybe running. Then, I hear the scream, begging for mercy when there is none. Then, the gunshot. I feel the tears streaking my cheeks. Then I hear the footsteps coming my way. I scramble under the desk. I rewind to fights I should’ve ended, long before they started. The doorknob rattles The blinds are disturbed. The door opens and from the small crack under the desk I see a large black gun in his hand. I wish I had said goodbye to my parents this morning. The large black boots walk my way, behind the desk. I look up and see the gun pointed right at me.