Slowly consuming bread chopped into cubes that were put into a ziplock bag. Parents talking to the preacher and siblings crowding around them. I hear the church doors open and look up to see who's coming in. A congregation member needing to talk to Paster Charles? A man walks in with gun pointed at Charles. Conversation and laughter stops. Fear written on most of the faces. I don't recognize this man but Charles seems to.

"Bill, calm down. Put the gun away," he says in a soothing tone. "Let's just talk. There's no need for all of this."

"No!" The man crys, seeming to have a lisp to his speech. "I-I'm tired of talking!" My father and mother have causally ushered the kids behind them. Shielding them from the future. "At least let the kids go. They have nothing to do with this." Charles continues. Bill considers it. His face contorting into a look of pain and confusion. "No no no no no no....NO!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down Bill-"

Mumblings and ramblings as a reply.

What would have happened if we left when we said we would.

i do not move

as i stare down the barrel-

it would take too much effort

and i am far too tired

to wage a war i won't win

i never knew how cold

metal feels

pressed against your forehead-

like a kiss from your mother

but warmer

my heart pounds

until it screams

but my chest

has been yelling

all day

my hands shake

they make certified richter scale earthquakes-

no thanks to him

i knew how to break down

before he ever came around

to give me a reason to

i do not want to die

but i do not want to live

my call to death-

when i begged death for his hand-

must've gotten through

i am more worried

about the state of

my alarm clock

than i am

about this man

-i hope i reset the time-

i do not move

but my eyes dart towards

the purple folder

in my backpack-

he probably thinks

it's hiding a knife

i carry more concern

for my math homework

than i do for

my life

Four lit candles lay sprawled about my room, illuminating my space gently but enough to be comfortably aware. My book sits firmly between my hands, my eyes scanning each word to decipher coded meanings behind them, I flip from one page to the next while the scent of the pages wafts into my nose. It's quiet except for the trickling of the water in the fish tanks. Ah, a nice calm night...

BOOM! The door rushes open, splinters handing from it's mangled edge.

"On the ground!" I hear a voice yell as I swiftly pull my eyes up from my words to identify a gun being aimed somewhere in the area of my skull.

I drop my book, trying to remember where the closest of my many hidden weapons is. Think, think, think...

"Please, I'll give you anything you want. I haven't even seen your face so I can't identify you." I'm stalling for time while my brain racks through my hiding places.

Eureka! I remember.

"Is that right? Anything? Well how about a little of th-" his words now hang on his lips, his hand falling off of my chest, as he has stepped to close. I reveal the Bowie knife I just pulled from under my mattress as it slips into his abdomen, I angle it up and push deeper, feeling the blood grove do it's job and my knife slide right into his heart.

"How about no?" I quietly reply as I quickly remove my blade to let his body hemorrhage it's very center. He drops to the floor and soon after comes a puddle of blood lying underneath him. I take my blade and go wash it off as well as my hands. Sliding it back into it's sheath I sit down and finish my paragraph before picking up my phone to call the police.