Page 2 of If Only You Hurt

The moment I’m about to make a face, that’s when I hear it.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The moment I hear the sounds echoing down the halls, my brain has a hard time registering what they could be. It isn’t until I hear the screams in the not-so-far distance that I realize what is happening. Those who have taken a seat in class begin moving toward the doors, trying to see what’s going on.

I must be stunned in place because Artie is grabbing me by my forearms and pulling me out of my chair. I start to look around, and students are now trying to move desks and anything heavy enough to keep the intruder from entering this class.

“Artie, what do we do?” I can’t help the panic that’s lacing my voice. I’m scared, and I we're trapped in this old room.

“Laney, just breathe.” My friend sounds so composed, and I have no idea how he’s managing that. Artie begins to survey the room, and I don’t know what he’s looking for. The windows here are old and far too heavy to lift up for us to climb out. Plus, we have no idea what’s going on outside.

He begins dragging me toward a closet on the other side of the room. I hear the sounds of gunfire getting louder, cluing me in that the person is getting closer to this room. My panic is at an all-time high.

We reach a door in the back corner right when I hear movement banging from the entrance of the classroom. There are students holding the heavy furniture so the door won’t open, but whoever is on the other side seems to be stronger than those trying to keep them outside. Right before Artie shoves me through the doorway, I see the shooter start to make their way into the room.

Artie, myself, and some fellow students shuffle into a connected classroom and begin to scan our surroundings in hopes of finding another way out. I’m about to tell Artie to go out a door to our right when we realize someone is trying to come in.

Artie whispers to me, “I’m going to go help. You stay here until help arrives.”

Before I can protest, I’m shoved into the small closet. I try to twist the knob to no avail, hoping to get back out and go with my friend, but I hear him speak to me through the door, where he must be holding the knob.

“Laney, please listen to me. Do not open this door. I’m walking away from this spot so the person doesn’t think someone is in here. Stay put until help arrives.” If my friend is scared, he doesn’t let on.

Artie, the big teddy bear who has the biggest smile and the warmest heart, always looking out for others, is doing all he can to keep me calm when he should be freaking out right now. I hear commotion on the other side, and Artie’s words are no longer bringing me comfort. This space is small, and Artie must have deduced he wouldn’t fit in here, his large frame too big for both of us.

The darkness is doing a good job of surrounding me with the inability to see anything in front of me, but the sounds I’m absorbing from my surroundings are engulfing me in absolute horror. This can’t be happening. I need to get out and help my friend. I need to protect him. Why did he shove me in here? I’ve never felt so alone and helpless.

The screams are the worst part. I’ve ducked into the corner of the closet, and soon I hear Artie’s voice, not right outside the doors of the closet but close enough that I can make out what he’s saying.

“Please. You don’t have to do this. I promise you can go. I don’t want anything to do with this. Please just go. I…” And that’s when I hear another sound of shots, and then there’s silence.

I cover my mouth; sobs threatening to escape and alert the shooter of my whereabouts. I'm scared of the sounds I will make if I let my panic-ridden screams out. I think my friend is hurt, and I’m stuck in this fucking closet. I’m about to move toward the door, trying to assess the horror that has occurred on the other side, when I see two feet approach under the space between the floor and the door. I stay as still as humanly possible while my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.

My heart is beating so hard and fast that I’m surprised it’s not giving away my location. I have never felt such fear engulf my body. I can sense the moment this monster is about to open the door; his hands are messing with the knob to open it when someone calls over, grabbing the attention of the person trying to find me.

The shooter begins to run away, his steps moving further away from where I am hiding, and soon I hear people screaming in the other direction, where I assume the shooters are attacking other students.

Once the sounds are far enough away that I hope I’m able to emerge from this closet, I begin to inch closer to the closet door. With shaky hands, I twist the doorknob and slowly let light seep in from the classroom.

It’s eerily quiet out here, and I hear some people moaning and moving slowly. I see some crawling toward others who I assume are wounded. I see a trail of blood before I see who it belongs to. The only thought I have is needing to find Artie.

I follow the blood trail as it’s going toward my right, which is behind the door as I’m opening it. I look over and see Artie clutching at his chest with one hand while trying to pull his upper body against the wall behind him. He’s breathing shallowly, tears running down his cheeks.

All my fears of being discovered are out the door as I rush to Artie’s side. I pull my cardigan off my body and press it against his wound, but the blood is coming faster than I can suppress. I press the fabric against him, and Artie’s hand engulfs mine, blood staining his skin to the point I can’t even tell where it begins or ends.

“Laney, it’s okay," Artie says, his voice soft, as if he's trying not to expend too much of his energy. "I love you. Please tell Eugene I love him. I never told him. I wanted to so many times, but I didn’t.”

I shake my head as my friend is gasping for breath. I can tell he doesn’t have much time, but this can’t be it. We’re not even twenty years old yet. We have so much time ahead of us. So much life we have to live.

“You can tell him yourself. I’m going to help you.” I keep my hand on his chest, my head whipping side to side to see if there is anyone who can help us.

“Lane, no one is coming right now. Promise me you’ll stay safe.” I can’t form words as he speaks to me, the lump in my throat growing the longer I see the life of my friend slip between my fingers. The tears are freely falling from my eyes, my vision is blurred, and I am unable to grasp the reality in front of me.

I move myself closer to Artie, then slowly position his upper body over my legs. I keep my one hand clutching the fabric against his skin while he has his hand over mine. My free hand moves through his hair. We just keep looking at one another. No words need to be spoken. But soon, I feel his hand lose a little bit of strength.

I look into his eyes, “I love you, Artie. You’re one of the best people I know. Please don’t leave me.”

Right then, he tries to give me a smirk, much like he does when he talks about Eugene, and then I see him take his last breath. The tears are streaming down my face, and I don’t know how long I sit there with my friend in my lap, his lifeless body getting colder with each moment that passes.

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