TW guns, knives, psychos, and gun violence
George skidded his feet against the sidewalk concrete, quickly crawling backwards, setting his back against a bronze
colored car. He felt his chest heaving as he breathed with panic. He flinched, hearing a shotgun bullet shoot out a
gun, colliding with something metal. More followed its sounds, till it became farther.
He relaxed slightly, clutching the small knife that laid in his hand till his knuckles went white, he should've never
left his house. He closed his eyes tight, a tear pushing out, he felt cold, hungry, and anxious, knowing he could be
attacked at any moment.
He tried to recall the decisions and circumstances where he was led to running away from a guy with a shotgun but
it all seemed too blurry, too quick. He silently sobbed behind the rusted car, hearing low sirens in the distance, reminding
his once beloved town about the hell fire that has spawned since dawn.
He stood, his legs slightly shaking as he searched around himself, it was the first time he was happy to be alone
in his life. He ran back towards the direction he had come from, searching the ghosted like street for his backpack
which had fallen off in the chase. After around twenty minutes of searching, he gave up, becoming sick to his stomach.
He had his food, weapons, and clothes in that bag. He looked up at the dark orange sky, still not sure if he was living
a nightmare or not.
He walked towards an alley, sliding down to the floor, dropping his knife to the floor as he brought his knees to
his chest. He wished this would all end, he wanted to be safe in his apartment again, next to his loving cat as he
watched some tv shows with her. He broke down, maybe he should give up. He was alone, maybe death was the
right answer? Maybe.
He heard light footsteps coming towards him from deeper in the alley, he didn't even try to look up, his exposed
neck practically asking for someone to attack him. The footsteps stopped in front of him, his heart pounding in
his chest, "hey, you okay?"
George looked up slightly, it was a boy, around his age. He had silky black hair and brown eyes, his expression
seeming to give off a concerned vibe. George lifted his head completely, looking up at the man, "y-yeah.. just..
tired.." he said, as he looked down again.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the raven reach over to George's knife, sliding it away from him. He
didn't even bat it an eye, he didn't care anymore. His life had been hell fire since last week, and he had enough
of the constant survival situations, people he called friends turned into mad men as soon as they were given the
free ability to cut the cord, and go insane.
"Good.. real good.." he looked up at the man's face, he crouched down in front of George, his facial expression
changed from a faked concern to a shivering look.
George noticed him lift up the knife at his side, he closed his eyes, he was about ready for this. He wanted to
be safe for once.
He waited, then, heard a crash in front of him, startling him a bit as he opened his eyes, flinching as the sound
of metal clashing against tin sounds filled his brain. It was difficult to see in the dark, but he could make out two
people, "what the f#c-" the raven yelled, his mouth being covered. George closed his eyes tight, hearing a gunshot
that rung in his ears for a few seconds.
When he reopened them, he saw another person, on top of the raven, he appeared to be holding a pistol. He
looked over at George, he was wearing a black beanie hiding his hair, and a black face mask, only his eyes being
shown. George scooted back slightly, looking into his eyes.
He tilted his head, "you were just going to let him kill you, weren't you" he stated, in a protective voice. George
looked to the ground.
"No point, besides, it's the fast way out" he looked up, the tip of the gun in between his eyes, his heart raced.
"Would you urge me to pull the trigger?" The man asked, George's eyes on the gun in his face. He went silent,
swallowing hard as he tried to push down his fear, "exactly" he lowered his gun, crouching down in front of
George.
George looked away, his eyes closed "if you're going to kill me just do it!" He yelled, his voice echoing through
the alley.
He looked back at the man who pulled off his mask and beanie, "I'm not going to kill you, I'm not that cryptic" he
put away his gun, now that George got a better look at him, he had fluffy blonde hair, and a striking complexion
that reeked of confidence. He looked away, his face slightly heating up, not bad.
The man tossed George his knife, the brunette slowly picking it up, "you with me? Or are you giving up?" He
asked, George looking down at the knife.
He curved the blade slightly, thinking to himself as he saw the shine. He looked up at the blonde, a new mind
set, he would survive, alone or not. He slowly stood up, his legs slightly shaking, "I-I guess.." he said.
The blonde tossed him a black mask, George catching it and looking up, confused. "To hide your face, can't be
making enemies out here" he said, pulling on his own mask, "Dream"
George looked down at the mask, taking a deep breath in as he pulled it on, looking back up "George.. thank
you, by the way" he looked away, maybe death could wait a bit, he wanted to see where this went.
994 words