Unfortunate Souls

You were never afraid of the dark. In haunted houses, you were the one laughing and dragging your friends through. Horror movies were a joke.

You always though that if you were forced into a situation, you would be the one to take charge, be the hero.

But you weren't.

And now, here you are, huddling in a corner. Turns out, your friend was the hero. Well, tried to be.

The queesiness still hasn't left you, and it doesn't help that a red puddle has now formed in the middle of the room. Your eyes avoid the gory sight. Sometimes, you glance at the other hostages.

Two little kids press up against their parents side. Their faces are grim, and you see the sickness and regret on their features. One whispers something to their children, and you faintly hear the words 'ice cream.'

You can almost laugh.

This psycho isn't letting us go anywhere, you think. Especially for ice cream.

A couple grips each other's hands, pale and sweaty. They say nothing, but the look they're sharing says it all.

You feel sorry for them. Maybe their married, or have kids at home.

"Eyes on the floor!" your captor yells, putting a gun to the back of your head.

Silently and hastily, you lower your head. However, this doesn't stop your eyes from wandering.

The creep has two friends, one of whom is holding a gun to the other hostages on the other side of the bank. The other is in the back, with a worker, probably taking all the cash.

You're glad you didn't have anything expensive on you. Watches and jewelry were the first to be taken, along with cell phones and other devices. The only thing you have left is the clothes on your back.

You know there are cops outside. That's why everyone is hunkered down. Maybe if the bank teller hadn't of pressed the panic button - no. People would notice if the bank suddenly shut down.

Your eyes travel again to your fallen friend. Eyes stare lifelessly back at you, and you feel like choking. You will never hear their voice again. Never again will you go out for a night on the town.

"You," a voice says, and you look up to see one of your captors - more specifically, the one who killed your friend. "Get up."

You wonder how they can live with themselves as you shakily stand. You wonder what they want. But you stay silent, following the bank thief to the front of the store. Hands grab your shoulders from behind, but you can't see who it is.

You're dragged in front of a window, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a red dot disappear. And it clicks; you're the human shield. You read about these situations, and have seen it on TV.

In hostage situations, SWAT usually takes over. Their first obligation would be the innocents, right? And if they had to do whatever necessary, who's to say they don't use a few snipers?

You feel bile rising, and your knees give out.

"Stand up!" someone yells, gripping your forearm and yanking you back up.

Stumbling along, you and the person your shielding finally make it away from the windows. It's quiet then, the innocents too scared, and the guilty having whispered conversations. You stand awkwardly, not sure what to do.

Sit down? Play hero? The door was three steps away. You could make a mad dash, and hope for the best. It didn't seem like the trio was paying attention. But if you ran, your footsteps would alert them. If you tried to go slowly, you risked them turning or one of your fellow prisoners saying something.

Three against one wasn't very promising, and as much as you loved your friend, you didn't feel like following in their footsteps.

Someone exits the vault, carrying a suitcase. They're struggling, but the smile on their face says it all - they succeeded.

"Ready?" the one who used you as a shield asks.

The others nod, and you're being grabbed again, along with other hostages. You think about pleading, but someone beats you to it.

"Please!" a voice screams. "I have family, you can't do this! You can't-!"

BANG.

The body drops to the floor, and people are screaming.

"Shut up!" a captor yells. "Next person to make a noise gets a new hole."

So there's really nothing to do. It is hopeless; the robbers have proved they weren't afraid of killing twice now. What chance did you have? You, with no weapon? You, with no hope?

Maybe if these guys were zombies, you could have the guts and knowledge to kill them. Or if they were ghosts, you could do something. You've seen enough horror movies to know what to do, and what not to do.

It's then that a window shatters, and one of the robbers go down. It should be good. This should have been a mark of victory. You should be rejoicing.

But you don't, for two reasons. One, everyone is screaming, and running for te exit. Two, the one using to for a shield wraps their arm around your neck, and puts the barrel of the gun to your temple.

You freeze, and hold your breath. You're being dragged, while the others sort out the chaos, getting the hostages back to the ground. Some shots are fired, but as far as you can tell, no is killed.

You're brought outside, in front of the police, spectators and press.

"You think you can away with that?" the person yells.

It's a challenge, and the crowd is frozen as well. Tension hangs like a cloak, and you can't help the tears that fall as te gun is pressed harder against your skin.

"This is what you get," the person screams, "when take away a buddy of mine."

A loud BANG resonates as pain explodes throughout your body. But you barely register it.

Because you're already dead.