Why would someone have a gun in the school commons in the first place?

As usual in these stressful situations, my mind wandered.

I could think of three potential reasons. First, he could be an officer or some other profession allowed to carry a weapon onto the campus grounds. Second, he was one of ‘those’ people; the ones who feel the need to always have a gun despite rules and regulations because they think their dick is bigger than the law.

However, even that was the preferable option to the last choice.

He could be a potential school shooter.

If that were the case then he was very dangerous to everyone in this room. Not only would he have little regard for his own life, he could have already been planning to kill everyone here even before the summoning. This means he would do his best to cause as much damage as possible to everyone in this room.

The staredown between this man and Altru continued in strained silence. I could see him slowly cock the hammer on his revolver under the table.

If.. if he kills the prince of this country, what would happen to us? I saw how fast Shanks was earlier, there is no way he gets more than one shot before his head leaves his body. But if he manages to kill Altru before that, I think it is likely that everyone here would be deemed dangerous and executed. There are plenty of examples in medieval history of entire families and groups being executed for the crime of one person, and killing the prince of the country is about as bad as you can get.

If he kills Altru, we will all likely die.

As I was thinking this the man quickly lifted his hand. I was already moving before his hand made it above the table. He was only one seat away so it was easy enough to grab him, but would I make it in time?

I don’t know exactly what made me decide to be the one to stop him. It might have been for self preservation, it could have been because I worried that my friends might be hurt. It might even be the terrified face of May I saw mere seconds before I moved. But whatever the case, I moved desperately to stop the gun.

I got one hand in his face so he didn’t have a clear shot and attempted to wrestle the gun away with my other hand.

He looked surprised at first but his expression distorted in extreme anger and he struggled against me with all his might. Now, I do think I mentioned this before, but I have no special talent when it comes to anything. As far as my strength was concerned, it was average at best and likely even weaker than that. Apparently I should have done more push ups in my life, because the struggling man managed to slowly move the hand holding the gun despite my grip on it. He was obviously stronger than me and I could see his toned mussels under the hem of his shirt as we struggled.

I was at a loss, he looked like a twig and I thought I could easily get the weapon away from him. Instead I had to watch the gun steadily inch upward from where I had made it point at the floor.

My mind must be working faster in this situation, because everything looked like it was in slow motion. The gun inching upwards, my arms trembling, the screams around me as people saw the gun; all of them were slowed down and yet starkly clear.

Odd, is this adrenaline I wonder? But in that case wouldn’t I have more power to keep the gun pointed down?

A horrible thought passed my brain in this slowed down time. Isn’t this what happens when people die in novels? They either see flashes of their life or…

Everything slows down.

Without fully meaning to I looked up into the eyes of the man I was grabbing. Through the gaps between my fingers on his face I saw him staring at me. In those eyes I only saw madness.

I thought he would be angry, confused, or flustered. But his eyes were smiling. And his eyes were not focused on Altru whom he had been trying to shoot in the first place. No, they were laid squarely on me.

The last thought entering my mind as the gun barrel inched its way to my stomach, was that the third option from earlier was definitely the right one. If this man wasn’t a school shooter then I’m happily at home in my bed dreaming.

Please god let me be dreaming.

Everything went silent as my ears stopped functioning and my head felt light.

It’s strange, you would think you could hear a gunshot right next to you, but I heard nothing. I only felt light headed and a strange sense of weightlessness.

The only thing assuring me that I had been shot was the flash of the barrel and the few drops of blood and flesh that separated themselves from my stomach.

Why don’t I feel it? Why is everything still so slow? Why is no one helping me? Why did I have to stand up for the prince that kidnapped us? Why me? Why am I going to die here?

why why why why why why why Why Why Why Why Why WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?

WHYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????????????

As I screamed in my mind, time, my hearing, and all my other senses came rushing back all at once.

The sense of weightlessness I felt was me falling to the ground. The screaming was everywhere. I heard the sound of metal on metal and assumed it was the sound of swords leaving their sheaths.

Then the last and more intense feeling came back.

Pain.

Searing, rending pain. I’ve never even broken a bone and I had just been shot in the gut. Honestly I couldn’t even describe it, because I had no reference for it.

Needless to say, I hit the ground screaming. Or at least I tried to. Nothing came out of my mouth except choked sounds of air. Hot tears went down my cheeks and I came to the conclusion that yes, I am going to die. I don’t know a lot about wounds, but he shot me slantways through the part of my body with the most organs, even one tear meant I was a goner, and he had certainly hit several.

While I lay there choking, something thudded to the floor in front of me. It was a head, just a head, wearing a pair of blood stained glasses.

He was still smiling.

His stupid smiling face still looked at me even when separated from his body.

Fuckin prick.

The pain didn’t stop, but it stopped feeling so hot, instead I felt cold. I thought this might be the only mercy granted to me, who was going to die. This one small relief.

The head with glasses was kicked away by a metallic boot and in its place I saw Altru looking at me with a strange mixture of worry, surprise, and pity.

“Where are the healers?!” he yelled.

My choking gradually stopped just like the pain. I finally found the strength to say something, but found I had nothing I wanted to say before I died. So I just sat there on the ground feeling the heat leach from my body.

I saw people in white robes across the room rushing to me. When one of them, a young man around my age, looked at the wound on my stomach his face went dark. He whispered in Altru’s ear but I was able to pick up what he said.

“He has no hope, all we can do is make his passing more painless.”

Altru closed his eyes somberly and then opened them and looked into mine silently.

The priest went around to my back and I couldn’t see her anymore.

The pain started to fade faster and all the heat left in the wound dispersed. This must be healing magic. That means that even magic can’t save me. Joy.

I continued to revel in dark thoughts as the wound felt better and better, though it felt uncomfortably as if my skin and tissue was moving on its own. Either way, I felt much better. I guess my last words could be words of thanks for making it painless.

“Thank you, I feel much better.”

Altru, stone faced till now, showed confusion on his face. He looked behind me at the healer.

“Did you start yet?” he asked.

“No my lord.” I heard a shaken voice from behind me.

Hmmm? Then why do I feel so much better I wonder? I even feel like I could move some.

I sat up surprisingly easily. The confusion on Altru’s face deepened.

I’m certain I’m even more confused than he is.

I lifted my shirt tenderly to check my wound. I saw the hole where the bullet entered, but it looked much smaller than I thought it would.

As I and everyone in the surroundings watched my skin grossly writhed about and the hole widened and something covered in blood dropped to the floor. I reached down and picked it up, not fully following what was happening yet.

It was a small piece of metal that was slightly deformed. Despite the change in its structure, it was still obvious what it was.

It was the bullet.

I looked down at my wound in shock as I continued to feel the uncomfortable feeling of my flesh moving around.

With my shirt lifted and with everyone watching in awe, myself included, the hole grew smaller and smaller.

Eventually, the wound closed completely and all that was left was smooth unblemished skin, though still covered in blood.

The room was completely silent, and this time it wasn’t my ears not working.