Prisoner in a Safe Place - Part Three

this is the last part, and by far the most dramatic part. again i cannot control my dreams.

“But, the money. You asked for money. You said, you said one hour. It hasn’t been an hour. It’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t - you can’t,” My mouth won’t stop, the words are pouring out without my mind's permission. At this moment i don't think my mind would be capable of anything more.
An amused expression places itself on his face. “Time slips away quickly when you sleep,” is all he says. My heart catches and my eyes dart up to the clock that hangs upon the wall. 8:55. It’s been fifty five minutes since school started. Fifty five minutes since we walked into this classroom. Fifty five minutes since he made the phone call. And only five minutes until the hour is up. I find myself now looking to Micah who still sits in the front row. His eyes bring a cascade of sadness down on me; those eyes i’ve seen every day for two years, those eyes i hold in my heart, those eyes i love. They hold a look of pure, unforgiving fright. For me; he is afraid for me. But he shouldn’t be, he should be afraid for himself. I don’t deserve to be cared for any longer for I caused all of this. It’s all my fault just like everything else. This time though, it will not be my fault if someone else, someone i love, gets hurt.
“No,” I keep my eyes on Micah, the sight of him giving me just enough strength. “I won’t choose.” The man’s face hardens and I brace myself once again for his roughness. As I expected his hand reaches out and snaches the front of my shirt. He stands, dragging me up with him, until we stand looking out over the class. He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face to look at all of my friends.
“You must choose, the time is up and the police have not given me my money. therefore all of you must pay the price. And the price of a life is what you must pay. So, since you are my little mouse for the evening it is your job to pick which friend may die first.” As he talks he moves my head so that i am forced to look everyone in the eye. But i refuse to be responsible for anyone's death.
“I told you, I won’t choose.” I say this as i am looking straight into Micah’s eyes. In the depths of them I see the shift as he understands what I am really doing. His whole body stiffens and before he has a chance to call out, trying to take my place as i know all too well that he will, I continue talking. Hoping that Micah will not get the chance to get himself hurt. “You cannot make me choose, no matter what you do. I won’t.” I try to take as much of Micah’s face in as i can, knowing that these may be the last moment i see it.
“You do not know what you are doing girl. I suggest you make a decision.” He turns me around until his hand is grasping my neck. His dark black eyes pierce mine, sending a shiver down my spine, but not causing me to falter in my choice.
“I have.” I speak with more strength than i have the entire time this man has been here. And that, i see, cuts the string.
His other hand flashes out to the desk directly in front of us. On it is something that I did not see before: a pair of scissors. They are long, silver, and as he grasps them in his hand i see the shine of the blades as they pass quickly through the air. As they hit their target and the man drives them in, a white hot, agonizing pain, courses through my stomach. The intensity of it wont let me get out any more than a single gasp, a cry, of pain. All that keeps me from crumpling to the ground is that hand that is wrapped around my throat. For a moment my vision turns to a mush of colors, everything blurring into one.
He lets go then and i fall, my legs unable to support any kind of weight. But I am able to keep my arms under me so that i do not lay completely on the ground. One hand reaches towards my stomach, to where the the scissors are. Though as i feel empty air, i look down and realize that the scissors are no longer there. Instead all i see is a deep red blood seeping through the seemingly colorless fabric of my shirt. I place my hand on the wound, hoping that maybe the bleeding will stop. Because that is what scares me, the thought of my blood getting everywhere; and that fact that someone will have to clean it up.

With one hand on my stomach and one supporting me, I look finally look up at the man who stands over me. As my gaze travels up his body my eyes linger for a moment on the silver and red scissors that hang loosely in his hand. Then my eyes meet his and i see no remorse in them. Nothing. I can’t help it as my arm shakes, for it’s losing its remaining strength and i fear i soon won’t be able to hold myself up at all. But I have to hold myself up, I have to be strong for these last moments. For what I am about to do.

“I told you,” he says. “I told you to choose. But you're such a stupid stupid girl aren’t you? And look at what you made me do.” I can’t speak, can barely breath in the thick air that seems to be surrounding me. “I’m going to give you one more chance though. One more chance to save your pathetic life. Tell me who dies first and I’ll let you live. I’ll let you go out into that hallway and be whisked away by the police. They’ll take you back to your family, you’ll live. Just give me a name.” His voice is taunting, provoking. His eyes are laughing. But although my vision is clouded and I can feel my mind fading, I know enough that I cannot let him win this. I cannot be the cause of something horrible.

I take one last look at Micah, one final look. I take in those beautiful crying eyes and his caring face. I want him to be what i remember when this finally ends. That will make me happy, in this sad sad situation, remembering his face will make me happy. And that is all i need. I find the strength to put on my face just the slightest smile. I find the strength to push the pain out of my own eyes for just a moment so that Micah will know that it is okay.

I turn then, away from Micah, and look up at the man who started this all. For Micah i keep the smile on my face. And then i reach down as far as i can into my mind and pull out the last strength i have to say one single word.

“No.”

The gun comes up.

The sun goes down.

A shot rings out.

A girl is gone.

The door to the room burst open and men in bullet proof vests pour in. The man standing over the girl turns and raises his gun. Bullets fly and the man goes down.

A boy from the front row pushes his desk away and falls to his knees beside the red haired girl. As he pulls her body onto his lap and cries out her name, a bright red pool grows larger on the white tiled floor. It comes from a ragged hole in her right shoulder.

His cries call to the girl and from the depths of the deepest ocean, she hears his voice. His sweet sad voice, and it brings her back to the surface.

The girl who lies in her lover's arms, surrounded by blood and bullet proof vests, opens her eyes. As she looks up at him she smiles. And for a single moment in time, the boy smiles back.

She whispers five words for the last five minutes of her life. Each one only loud enough for him to hear. I'm glad it was me.

The tide goes out.

A girl sinks down.

The sun comes up.

Her smile lives on.

Reviews

[Kenfucius69]

The last bit was perfect, and it was courageous, frightening, and beautifully written. Thank you for sharing!

[Chris]

Sometimes the "simpliest" telling of a story is best ...dream or otherwise. All enwrapped in motivations and the majestic-noblese of dramatic self-sacrifice can lessen or confuse. The LARGE impact and OUR end MUST have meaning beyond mere - "...damn that hurts!"

You told a tale sure to draw the tears of "true love lost..." just as you intended.