We sat crouched behind the counter. My mother was shooting lasers of accusation at my father. If looks could kill he would be a dead man but then again in another minute or so we all would be.

And just like that the thought hit me. I didn’t want to die with my parents. I didn’t want to be anywhere near them when I left this world. I rather starve to death in a ditch.

I glanced at them. They weren’t paying any attention to me at all. The counter boy was curled into a ball in the corner whimpering softly. This was my chance and I was going to take it. Quickly I shifted position until I was facing the aisles. I took a deep breath; there wasn’t really a point in counting to three so instead I didn’t give myself time to think. I rocketed my self across to the soda machine closest to the counter.

“HEY!” bullets embedded themselves into the soda machine behind me as I slide around the corner.
“Come OUT!” the man’s voice cracked at the end of the last word. He was insane, not like me but like he had been pushed to far. He was here to kill, to take people with him before he took his own life. He was out for revenge against the world.

In the distance I heard the beginning of police sirens.


That’s when it hit me. This was the perfect opportunity to permanently get away from my parents. A quick bullet to the head and I would be free. No more endless imprisonment. No more being beaten for not measuring up to my parent’s standards. I mean, what else did I have to live for?

What the hell was I waiting for?

Shifting I pulled the backpack off and pulled my bear out. If I was going to do this I was going to do this with him in my arms.

“You ready?” I whispered to him. Slowly I stood and stepped out from around the corner and looked up to meet the man’s gaze. I still can’t believe I was so stupid. I’ve made people stop in their tracks by staring at them before. The Gaze of the Dead people called it. It never seemed to fail, even when I needed it to. He met my gaze and for the slightest second, he hesitated. Just long enough for one of the police officers that had finally arrived to decide that the situation had gotten out of control and pull the trigger.

The bullet’s impact jolted his body. The arm holding the gun pointed at my head went limp. The gun clattered to the floor and slowly the man sank to his knees. His eyes never left mine as the life faded from them and his body collapsed. I too sank too my knees.

…No

I was faintly aware of the police swarming in to secure the area. Some were over by my parents helping the counter boy up and leading him away. Some were already questioning my parents.

…Fuck NO

Another one stopped in front of me to check that the man was indeed dead and posed no more of a threat.

…This could Not be happening…I had been so damn close, so very close to freedom and it and been ripped from my grasp… WHY?!

My mind did not want to function any more. The question of why the world hated me so much continued to spin around endlessly in my mind. And then my mother was there. To anyone looking it would look like she was gripping my in a loving hug because she had almost lost me a moment ago. I knew better.

“You little bitch,” she hissed in my ear. The grip she had on my arm was painful and I knew it would leave a bruise. “ What the fuck kind of act of rebellion is this? You think trying to kill yourself will grant you freedom? That if you almost die we will go easy on you?”

“What do you care?” I heard myself mumble. The pain in my arm increased but before she could respond my father was there, hauling us to our feet.

“Come on let’s go home” he said.



I don’t know how we got by the police with all their questions but we did, I think my father had something to do with it … I was beyond caring. I was basically thrown into the car and we were on the road before I could even buckle my seat belt. My parent argued the whole way home. My mother said it was my father’s fault the man had come toward them at all. He argued that even if he had not looked over the damned counter the guy would have ended up doing the same thing as he had. I didn’t say a word.

It took only about half as long to get home than it had to get to the store. My father drove faster when he was pissed. My mother just yelled louder. As soon as the door was closed behind us she started screaming at me.

“GO! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” I would gladly have obliged but she had a firm and very painful grip on my arm. “I should beat you senseless you little piece of shit!” she dragged me up the short curved set of stairs that hid my bedroom door from sight. For a second she paused and turned to look at me. “But I won’t.” she said simply. Her voice was closer to its normal volume now. “Because if I do that the doctors will see the bruises when I enter you into the clinic and we can’t have that now can we?”

I felt my blood turn to ice. No, no not again, I would not go back.

My mother sneered at my expression and shoved me into my room. “Sweet dreams!”
She slammed the door in my face.

Slowly I slid to the floor, my back against the door. A small far away part of my mind noted that in all the chaos my parents had forgotten to take my bear away. I began to laugh softy as tears rolled down my cheeks. Such a small victory among so much loss.

I was doomed.