5When people say that death is a way out, they normally mean when death is a last option. They don't normally mean when someone you know is shot in front of you. By someone you don't even know.
I stared at Tom as he stumbled backwards, hand held in shock to the injury spurting blood. His dark brown eyes were glazed in disbelief, he fell to his knees, dark red life spilling from him. I wanted to go to him, wanted to tell him it'd be alright. But the man with the gun had turned to me. "You think you want to try escaping?" He snapped.
"D-don't," Tom stuttered, holding his chest. "Don't hurt her," he coughed on the last word, his mouth stained with blood. His t-shirt was drenched, already. That wasn't good. Some part of my mind was still working. But the rest of me was stunned.
The taste of the rain, the sound of thunder, and the pounding of my stupidly terrified heart were too obvious. They drowned my senses. The man with the gun, a total stranger to me, was tall. He stared down at me, weighing my life with his eyes. I wasn't much. A mere brunette, unremarkable eyes and figure, I was average. There was no real reason I should be spared. I shivered in the rain, my clothes soaked.
"What's she to you?" the attacker wondered, gruff voice mocking. "I could kill her right now if I want and you couldn't do anything."
Tom, dear brave boy that he was, struggled to stay upright, "I promised," he winced in pain, voice weak, "t-to get her home."
My throat ached. It didn't look like either of us were getting home. Not tonight.
The stranger grabbed my arm and yanked me close so that I could smell his nicotine-thick breath, feel his own racing pulse, and see his crazed green eyes. He snarled into my face so that I saw his missing teeth, "I shot you," he said to Tom, "what's to stop me from shooting her?"
My hand wrapped around the knife I wore around my neck, a present from my dad to take on my first date. He was old fashioned and now I was grateful to him. I didn't think about it. I pulled out the blade, then rammed it deep into the man's neck. The explosion of his gun made me jump.
He staggered away from me, trying to drag me with him as one hand pawed at his neck where the knife was. I pulled out of his grasp, wriggling out of my sweater. The man gargled in horror as he pulled the weapon out of his neck. He had dropped the gun and I grabbed it, turning it on him, "Stay back!" I screamed.
The stranger staggered towards me and I pulled the trigger. The gun went off a third time and he fell back. His hand twitched once or twice and then he went still.
"Beki," Tom said, hoarsely.
I turned to him. He'd crumpled on the ground. I stumbled to his side, feeling like I'd just entered a nightmare. That I'd wake soon and find it was a horrible dream only.
"S-sorry," He gasped, body shaking with pain, "n-not the. . ." his eyes closed as he fought against a wave of agony, "plan."
I pushed his dark hair out of his eyes, "You owe me another first date," I said, faking a smile.
"T-t-tell," he was dying, the thought finally reached my numb brain, "parents. 'm, sorry."
I fumbled for his phone, it was wet but I punched in the number for the ambulance.
"9-1-1, how can I help you?" The voice asked.
"He's shot," I said, the whole thing starting to sink in, "we went for a walk. Guy came, shot him."
"Are you alright?" The person on the phone asked, "are you hurt? What is your location?"
"Hyde park," I said slowly, "I shot Tom's attacker. He's here too." I was shaking and it wasn't from cold.
"Is Tom a friend?" The voice asked.
"Yeah," I nodded, "first date."
Tom's eyes met mine and held them as I talked. I stared into them, seeing the fear, the pain. He was going to give up.
"He promised to take me home," I said into the phone but also to Tom, "and he's got to keep that promise."
A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and his fingers, colder than my own, wrapped around my hand. I wasn't sure if it was rain or tears on my face but I didn't care.
The ambulance got there as Tom's hand went limp.