Short Story- Valentine's Day by Sarah Frank

Trigger Warning: Gun violence, self-harm, blood

Kassia

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I could do something —anything— without

stressing about it first, without making pro-con lists that I promptly overthink. It’d be nice to be

able to take a math test without having to pause and calculate how it’ll affect my grade if I fail.

Not that I’ve ever failed a test, but I’m always worried that day will come.

Mrs. Stark is talking about chemical reactions and I can’t concentrate. I want to, I want to

concentrate and take perfect notes, but something feels off. Something is wrong.

Jameson

I can’t believe Mrs. Bell fell for it again. I use the same trick twice a week. I ask to go to

the bathroom so I can leave class. I really do go, though, I don’t want to completely lie to her.

The word “go” doesn’t actually imply using the bathroom, so I walk in and I walk right back out. No one likes the third floor bathrooms anyway. But nonetheless, I normally do go to the

bathroom...and then I take a few laps around the school campus. Exercise, that’s what I like to call it. Gotta stay healthy.

Today, though, I skip the bathroom entirely. I don't feel like going to the far end of the

hallway, which is ironic as I am about to do some laps. A scenic route, though. The bathroom

isn't scenic.

If Mrs. Bell was smart enough to piece it together, she’d be disappointed in me. She’d tell

me that’s why I score straight C’s on her tests because I’m never in the class.

I’d tell her it’s because she’s a crappy teacher.

Kassia

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. There’s a buzz in the school, an unnatural buzz. I try to

focus on Mrs. Stark, but I can’t. One of the campus monitors has walked past this room three

times this period. He didn’t look worried, but I certainly am. They don’t walk for exercise.

Something is definitely wrong.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, my breath catches. The room is spinning and my

heart is racing and I have to tell myself to calm down.

Maybe I’m just paranoid, I try telling myself. It’s just my anxiety talking. Like always.

Jameson

There are a handful of other students in the hallway, but I don’t know any of them. I

don’t really care to, either. One of them nods at me and offers a wry smile. I force myself to give a wry smile back. Tight-lipped and grudging, but a smile nonetheless.

I can’t wait for the day to be over. I can go home and relax. All this exercise is making

me tired.

Kassia

I’m staring right at the door when it happens. I see him peak through the class, pale

circular face and sharp movements. 

I hear the shots before I see them. The glass in the door shatters and Alyssa is shot. Then

Alaina. My gut twists. I can't believe it. I can't even process what just happened. My friend

Wayne pulls me to the floor, but the gunshots have stopped. In this room, at least. I hear the

shooter in the hallway. I hear screaming and my heart sinks into my stomach. I clench my eyes closed and hold my breath. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

This is just a dream, I tell myself. Just a really bad dream. A nightmare. The worst

nightmare I can imagine.

Alaina and Alyssa are bleeding. They're dead. And it's not over yet, I can tell.

I knew something was wrong. I had a feeling. I should have done something. Somehow I

feel like this is my fault.

Jameson

Gunshots. Footsteps. Feet pounding the floor. Running. I'm running now, too, although

I'm not sure what from. Or rather, who from.

I run to the first classroom and try to force it open, but it's locked. There's paper over the

window. I can't see who's in there, and they can't see me either. "Let me in!" I shout."Please!"

I don't want to die. I can't.

The door isn't unlocked. They won't let me in.

I try the next one. Locked.

There are other students on this floor. Two girls run for a classroom in the middle,

pounding and shouting, but they can't get in. There's a kid by the bathroom, but that's locked too. And then I see him, Mr. Beigel. He's holding the door open. I run towards him.

Gunshots echo in the air as I run to the end of the hallway. Feet, pounding the crimson

linoleum. I can barely hear over the sound of my own panting breath or the blood pounding

through my head. It’s all happening so fast.

Mr. Beigel drops to the floor, dead. I look up and I see him, the shooter. He went here. I'd

heard rumors about him. I see his gun, I see it point to me.

I hear my own voice, begging, pleading.

I see Mr. Beigel dead on the ground.

I see the shooter pull the trigger.

And then, I see nothing at all.

Kassia

It wasn't my anxiety talking. It was real. There was something wrong and I sensed it and

yet, I said nothing. I did nothing.

Barely anyone did.

All the glowing candlelight in front of me is almost like a reminder of how much

happiness and brightness Alyssa and Alaina brought into the world. And the other 15 people who were gone now.

The hot wax of the candle drips onto my fingers and I flinch. I watch more wax roll

languidly down the candle, and this time, I don't flinch. I let it burn my skin. I wish I could've

done something.

The burn of the wax is nothing compared to the feeling of a broken heart.

Almost nothing is.