Chapter Text
Your back was beginning to ache from bending over your schoolwork at the tiny desk in the back of the library. You straightened up with a groan. This math assignment was grueling. You sighed and picked your pencil back up.
You were jolted out of your concentration by two loud bangs that sounded out of nowhere. You and the handful of other students in the library looked up, confusion on your faces. Did someone drop a book? Two books?..
Then, came the screaming. A dozen different voices from behind the library doors erupted in panicked screams. And it didn’t stop.
The doors swung open and a student hurriedly entered. Then, he turned and yanked the doors shut. He dragged over a chair and a desk as a barricade.
“What’s going on?” some jock from your History class asked.
“He has a gun,” the boy panted.
“What?! Who?!”
“I don’t know, man, I don’t know, but he’s shooting up the school!”
“Oh, my god.” A brunette girl across the room from you clapped a hand to her mouth.
Then, the door handle began to rattle.
Terror flooded your body and you ran to hide behind a bookshelf, deep in the library. Everyone else did the same, finding hiding spots of their own.
The handle rattled again and the doors started slowly being pushed open.
You screwed your eyes shut.
The shooter entered the library. You could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way to the librarian’s desk. You heard a whimper, then a loud bang. A tear slipped down your cheek.
A few moments later: “No, please, don’t-” Bang.
You never really believed much in a God, but you found yourself praying that you would survive this. Please, please, please… you begged. I don’t want to die yet! You struggled to stop a sob from escaping your throat and covered your face with your hands.
Your eyes were shut tightly against the sound of your fellow students begging for their lives and shots firing out, until, all of a sudden, there was silence.
You suppressed another sob as the realization hit you. You were the only one left alive in the library. Not including the shooter.
Slowly, footsteps began to advance towards you. Now, it was your turn.
You peeked through your fingers and saw the barrel of a gun aimed directly at your head.
“Please, d-” You were cut off.
“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice asked.
Your hands fell away from your face and what you saw shocked you to your core.
It was Tate. Tate Langdon. Your boyfriend. He was the shooter?
“Tate?! Wh-what are you doing?!”
His eyes were cold and dark and lifeless. “I’m cleansing this shithole,” he responded simply. “I’m doing you a favor.” He lowered the gun. “Didn’t you always say how much you hated this place? And the people in it?”
“That didn’t mean you should fucking kill them, Tate! I never asked for this!”
“Oh. Well.” Tate looked down at the gun, which was splattered with blood, as was his hand, arm, and the rest of his body. “It’s a little too late for that, huh?”
You were too stunned to say anything.
Tate looked down at you with those cold, dead eyes. You couldn’t stand it. You stood up.
Immediately, the gun was aimed at you again. Directly between your eyes.
“Don’t do anything stupid, (Y/N).”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” you said tearfully, your voice shaking. Tate stayed silent, unmoving. Neither of you knew if he would actually pull the trigger or not.
With a surge of unexpected courage, you ripped the gun from Tate’s grasp and chucked it across the library. It cleared several shelves before landing on the tile floor with a clatter.
As soon as Tate took off to retrieve the weapon, you bolted. Avoiding the bodies littering the floor, you pushed out of the library and into the hall, running as fast as you possibly could.
You didn’t make it far before a sharp, stabbing pain appeared in your leg. You yelped and collapsed, narrowly missing landing on another classmate.
Tate rushed over. “I’m sorry-”
“What the FUCK! You FUCKING SHOT ME?!” you screamed incredulously.
“I KNOW, I’m sorry! I had to stop you!” Tate’s eyes were wide and he knelt down beside you. “Please, (Y/N), come with me.”
“What?! Come with you?! You just shot up the school, Tate!”
Tate’s expression was stormy. “You’re coming with me. Now.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you up roughly. You squeaked as you were forced to put pressure on your injured leg. He pressed the gun into your back. “Walk,” he commanded.
Stiffly, you limped down the hall.
“You know I love you,” Tate muttered in your ear. “Too much to lose you.”
His next words sent icy chills down your spine.
“Unless I have to, that is.”
The two of you continued walking until you reached the emergency exit. He pushed the door open with one arm, the other one being wrapped tightly around your waist.
“Where are we going?” you asked cautiously, afraid of what Tate might or might not do at this point.
“We’re going far, far away from here. Somewhere it’ll be just you and me.” He turned to smile at you. There was something off about it- something wrong.
You two were in the parking lot, now, nearing Tate’s car. The thought of an escape plan crossed your mind, but you knew you couldn’t outrun him, especially in your current state. The pain in your calf was worsening, and the blood flowing from the bullet wound hadn’t slowed. You suddenly felt faint.
“Tate,” you said. “I don’t feel well… my leg…”
“We’re almost to the car. I’ll wrap your leg up soon,” Tate said without looking at you.
You felt woozy and stopped walking. “Tate, I…”
You trailed off as your vision faded to black.