Heartbeat

Heartbeat 

By Evelyn Currie

I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself. Who is this person I have become? Am I just some figment of my imagination or is this all real? I wake up every day, get dressed, take my meds, and stand in my bedroom mirror for 15 minutes. It’s hard to believe everything was perfect until that day came. It all started in my business class last year. My best friend, Lane Sanders, was going on about her last conversation with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Luke Durski. So obviously I didn’t care to listen. Instead, I was more interested in Professor Milton’s rambling about the importance of reading when suddenly there was a loud bang. A gunshot. All of my classmates immediately dropped to the floor and hid behind the seats. Professor Milton hesitated then turned all the lights off. I heard screams and running from the hallway. I looked over to Lane who had tears streaming down her face. Bang. There it was again, another gunshot. Lane jumped and made a sound. I scattered to grab her and held my hand over her mouth. The whole room was silent. Since I had been going to that college, I had noticed that if you were quiet enough all you could hear was the sound of the rusting air vents barely filtering the cold air, there was a small vent to my left making a quiet squeak while blowing small bits of cold air through the jeans my 14-year-old niece, Kacee gave me. Bang. Another shot went off, and this time a girl's scream followed. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and prayed my ringtone wouldn’t go off. Bang. Another shot but this time it came from just outside the door. Lane grabbed my hand tightly and rubbed it gently. Both of us were terrified, our hearts pounding in the same amount of beats per minute. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Our heartbeats started to match the pace of the shooter's steps. Suddenly the door shot open suggesting the hinges had been broken. I looked out the door to see my boyfriend, Patrick bleeding out onto the tile floor. My heart stopped beating for a minute. No this couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. I took one last look before I was forced to hide my face again. Lane and I’s hearts, still in sync, sped up faster, and ironically so did the shooter's steps. I peeked through the crack of the seats again and noticed our professor standing up slowly facing the shooter. What was he doing? The shooter was going to spot him through the darkness. I heard some of my classmates whisper our professor's name to get him to sit down but before he could, the shooter saw his silhouette in the darkness and lifted his gun to the professor's head. “Please stop this, you can still turn your life around! You don’t need to kill these kids” Professor Milton explained in a calming tone. The shooter turned the light on revealing his face. A mist of silence fell upon everyone in the room. Immediately I recognized him, it was a freshman named Sam Nelson, who was a kicker on the football team. Sam was a short, skinny guy with short curly reddish brown hair. I met him a few times when I went to Patrick’s games and he seemed really nice, he always had an adorable dopey smile across his face. The guys on the team loved him so why was he doing this? Bang. Another gunshot and a scream from a girl a couple of rows below us. I reached for my phone to dial 911 but before I could another shot went off. I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto Lane. Every single step that Sam took caused my heart to speed up. Lane's eyes began to water again and I knew she was about to lose it. I turned my head to the left and saw the back of Sam's head clear as day. At this point, he would've been only a few feet away from us. I prayed he wouldn’t turn but as I should've realized earlier, prayers hadn’t been answered that day. Sam turned and raised his gun to our faces. Lane screamed but I couldn't make a sound. I stared deep into Sam’s ocean-blue eyes and felt calm for just a moment. He cleared his throat because he knew exactly who I was. He pulled the safety off of his gun and fired at all of the people to my left. Lane and I held each other tightly, preparing ourselves for what was to come until Sam stopped completely. I looked next to me and saw 6 of my classmates' bodies lying on the floor. I heard whimpering from a girl named Tracy, 4 seats down from me so I released myself from Lane to crawl over but before I could I heard an almost silent whisper, “Stop, Julia” Sam quivered. I looked back at him in desperate agony “Please Sam! She needs help” I cried, reaching for her hand. In response, he bent down and pushed the gun against Lane's forehead. She screamed. “No! Wait, please don’t!” I cried “Then sit back down” he smashed the end of his gun into her head causing her to pass out. “Okay, I will!” I screamed, “Just don’t touch her!”. I sat down and held Lane's unconscious body in my arms. Sam pulled his gun away slowly making sure I wouldn’t move again but stupidly the second he turned away I reached for my phone. “You wanna help somebody? Sam paused, returning eye contact. Bang. Bang. Two more shots went off causing my ears to ring. Sam let off a short sigh. “Help yourself”. I looked down and saw bullet-sized holes in my stomach. I let out a soft scream but Sam had already left the room leaving me bleeding out. I continued screaming out for help, but no one would come. 2 minutes of yelling had passed, and still no sound. I looked down at the holes in my stomach and the blood that was draining. The more time went on, the worse the gut-wrenching pain got. I closed my eyes and pushed my hands down on the wounds. I woke up a few hours later to a white ceiling. In truth I couldn’t feel anything so I just assumed I was dead until my mom's hug almost made me pass out again “Mom” I groaned “Oh my god! You're awake! Donald she's up!” she yelled in tears. My dad ran in, followed by my sister and niece, they all surrounded me in tears. Bang. I jumped at the sound of a gun in the distance. I peeked behind my frightened mother to see a dopey smile next to the door. It was him. Sam holding his rifle in his arms “Julia,” he called in a goofy voice. “Julia what’s wrong?” My mom asked. Suddenly Sam fired at me, placing 2 more bullets in my stomach. I screamed in agony “Get away! Now!”. My family was too stunned to speak but eventually called for help. The doctor rushed in and held me down while the nurse put a needle in my arm. “Hey stop! Get him before he leaves!” I shouted. The doctor grabbed my arms and pushed them down into the bed. Slowly I felt myself start to lose consciousness but not before catching the trembling stance of my niece holding tightly to my sister and the tears that fell to the floor in the corner of my eye. Why was this happening? I pondered as I closed my aching eyes. A few weeks later I found myself in the hospital’s mental health center. My family would try to visit often but that almost made it worse. Every time I saw them all I could think about was who they wanted me to be. Their honor roll, good girl daughter who believed that there was always a meaning for things. But was there ever one? “A meaning”? Was there a reason I had to watch my entire class and my boyfriend of 4 years get shot and I was one of the only ones to survive? Or was that just some lesson the universe wanted to teach me? Whatever it was, it broke me. So as soon as I could I checked out of the hospital and I moved to another state, dropping all contact with my old life. Nowadays all I do is sit at home and lie in bed. It's been a year since the shooting but I still can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I’m back in that room, every time I feel cold air against my skin it reminds me of the rusty air vents, and every time I hear a loud noise like a door shut, thunder during a storm, or even just a toilet flush I hear a gunshot. Everything around me feels wrong like I’ve been put with the wrong puzzle pieces. I just can’t help thinking how happy I was and how he had to ruin it all. Everyone else looks like they are ok in their photos so why am I still in that awful room? The sad part is I don’t even hate Sam, I hate myself for letting him take over my life. I hate that I can’t be near my family anymore without causing pain for all of us. I hate that I can’t blame him for my mistakes, because they are all my fault, not his. I’ve turned into my own worst enemy and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. It's hard to even imagine that I was once happy but somehow I miss it, even though I don’t even remember it, I miss it so very much.