Dead Memories

Anyone who ever had been a witness to someone close to them getting shot right before their very eyes would understand the trauma I was in as I watched Amanda collapse to the floor. I did the first thing that came to my mind and knelt down beside my best friend. I took her into my arms and held her body close to mine; it was just mere seconds that she was impaled with a bullet and already her skin was ice-cold.

I glanced up at the figure; his gun still pointed at Amanda and me, as if waiting for a moment to fire another shot. Anyone who really knows me would say that I’m mostly a relaxed and content person, but the moment I saw the man that had shot Amanda my initial idea was to attack, but I didn’t want to give him an excuse to finish me off. I was one of the biggest pacifists to walk the halls of Golden Gate High; I wouldn’t have been able to fight him if I tried, even if I had good intentions to now. So I continued to glare at the silhouette standing before me, while holding the freezing body of my best friend.

A couple seconds later the shadowy figure finally lowered his weapon and began to slowly shuffle toward the door. I strained my eyes to try and see if I could get any description of the guy while he was getting closer to the light. But even in the dim light the only thing I could see was the silver glint of the gun in his hand. However, one other detail caught my eye as I got a final glimpse of him: hanging loosely out of his pocket was a confederate flag.

It was strange seeing such an item; down here in Florida, Confederate flags were a rarity. You’d only find them outside the houses of former confederate states such as South Carolina and Georgia, since Florida wasn’t part of the Confederacy, hell it wasn’t even part of the United States during those times.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the figure stopped moving. He stood in the doorway for a moment and faced me one last time. Even in the faint light, it wasn’t difficult to tell that the man was smirking at me, still waiting to see what my reaction would be. In all honesty, it took every ounce of my being to remain true to my pacifistic nature, and not get up from the floor and deck him in the jaw, but I knew I couldn’t leave Amanda in the condition she was in.

The man must’ve been able to sense my anger because he threw back his head and began laughing menacingly; his laugh was very similar to the cynical snicker of the Joker from ‘The Dark Knight’. In other words, it was definitely the type of laugh I wouldn’t forget for a very long time, and would most likely haunt me for the rest of my life.

The laughing echoed throughout the whole band room as the figure left. A chill ran down my spine as I pictured him grinning with delight that he had just shot an innocent teenage girl and was now fleeing the scene. My mind was so fogged up with resentment that I forgot that I was holding Amanda in my arms. I knew that she needed help, but I couldn’t bring myself to move from that spot; shock had gotten the better of me. I felt utterly useless.

All of a sudden I heard two people burst into the room; I didn’t dare take focus off of Amanda, but I immediately assumed that the two persons were Stephan and Curtis. “John, Amanda, you two alright? We heard a loud bang come from in her-” Stephan began to say in mid-breath. “What happened to Amanda…?”

"She's been shot in the temple. I'd further explain, but there's no time right now. I need a phone." I answered as calmly as I could possibly manage given the circumstances.

Without further questions or hesitation, Stephan dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell-phone. He handed the phone over to me, and I dialed 9-1-1. The phone rang three times before someone finally answered. "Golden Gate City Police, state your emergency." I heard a woman say to me through the earpiece.

I tried to respond, but my heard was still in my throat. "H-hello, there's been a shooting here at Golden Gate High. My best friend's been shot in the temple, and she's losing blood by the second. Two more friends of mine and I are in here with her inside a storage unit of the band room." I managed to say, my voice being nothing more than a sheer squeak. I'd be surprised if the lady heard a single word.

"Are you okay, son? You sound very distressed and frightened."

"Of course I'm distressed and frightened! My best friend was just shot in the head and is dying as we speak! Who wouldn't be terrified of that!?" I shouted at the lady. I didn't mean to yell at her like that, especially since she was only trying to help. But I was just so anxious about getting Amanda some medical help that I could barely control my emotions.

The line went silent for a few seconds, but then the woman spoke once more. "Alright, son. I'll send help right away. Meanwhile, be sure to hold a cloth to your friend's head to try to slow some of the bleeding."

"Okay, thanks ma'am. I'll be sure to do that." I hung up and handed the phone back over to Stephan.

"So, what'd the lady down at the police station say?" Stephan asked me as he put his phone away.

"She said she's going to send help as soon as possible, but before they arrive, we need to slow down the bleeding on Amanda's head as much as we can." I replied. Then without further thinking, I set Amanda's head gently into my lap and pulled off my sweatshirt. Before placing it against her head, I took a look at the left sleeve; it was already drenched in blood, I was beginning to think I shouldn't use it.

"I'll need to dispose of that sweatshirt later, it's just too bloodied to even bother washing it." I thought to myself as I tossed the blood-covered sweatshirt into the corner of the room, and began to take off my polo shirt. I placed the shirt over the wound and held it firmly in place. I had a few other polo shirts for school back home that I could wear in replace of this one, so it didn't matter if I used it or not.

The room was eerily quiet after that; time seemed to drag on forever as we waited for the paramedics. I eventually told Stephan to stand by the back entrance to the band room to lead them to where we were as soon as they arrived. The rest of the time, I secluded myself and just continued to hold Amanda.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, after almost zoning out, I heard sirens in the distance. The paramedics finally arrived. Stephan returned to the room with three people dressed in dark blue uniforms, two of them rolling a stretcher. The one who wasn't knelt down in front of me, "Is this the victim?" he asked me, as he ran a hand over her head.

"No, she's just sleeping and nearly bleeding to death." I wanted to say, but kept it back. Instead I slowly nodded my head. The man carefully lifted her off my lap and I slowly rose to my feet. I watched sadly as the man placed Amanda onto the stretcher and strap her so that she couldn't fall off.

They rolled her out of the room and Curtis, Stephan, and I followed close behind them. As soon as we stepped out of the storage room, we were instantly ambushed by police officers. They were trying to get answers about the shooting from us, but of course I didn't really feel like talking about the incident. I continued to stare as the paramedics loaded Amanda onto the ambulance; I wanted so badly to sprint after them but the officers were holding me back.

Once the stretcher was fully into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics closed the doors and drove off. Even though I knew that Amanda was in good hands and was finally going to a place where she'd get proper medical attention, as the ambulance disappeared, I found myself wishing I could break through the pack of officers and chase after my best friend.