Stole

“We have to do something about our daughter.” I hear my mother tell my father. It’s barely audible over Blue October but I can still hear them.

“Diana, she’s grieving. How the hell do you expect her to act?” My father defends me. “Two weeks ago she lost more than just her brother. She lost friends and peers. She lost a sense of security. She lost more than you can imagine.”

“It seems everyone moved on but her.” I hear my mother sigh. “Greg, I want our daughter back. This isn’t Becca and you know it. She was full of life and now… she barely functions. She won’t talk to us or Max or Jamie. Where is our baby girl?” I can picture my dad pulling my mom into a hug as she begins to sob. Rolling my eyes, I turn up my music just as Hate Me starts.

I can hear my father sigh and I can envision him running his fingers through his graying hair. “I talked to the grief counselor at the school. He has this group he opened up to students willing grieve. It’s for teens suffering from PTSD, he told me that this could possibly help Rebecca; that’s if she wants the help.”

“She has to go to that!” My mom’s voice is high, nearly ear piercing. “This is exactly what she needs.”

“We can’t make her go Di.” My father reasons with her. “She can only be helped if she is willing to get the help.”

“And why wouldn’t she want the help?”

“She came face to face with the shooter. While he shot and killed anyone in his path, he let her go. That’s a huge burden to carry on one's shoulders. She probably doesn’t believe she deserves the help.”

“And what are we supposed to do until she wants help?”

“Be supportive. She’ll need us more now than ever. We just need to be there for her. That’s all we can do…”

Just as Blue October turns into Icon for Hire, I turn the volume higher and attempt to focus on my American History homework. But to no surprise, my mind can’t seem to focus on any detail of the Cold War. It’s only plagued with flashbacks of that ill-fated day.

Screams ring out followed by several gunshots. All of this is happening behind me as I run from it; pushing people down whenever they come between me and freedom. And of course karma comes back and bites me in the ass in the form of me falling over my feet. I can see hear boots on the title and the clink of his chains against each other. Of course, it would only be me to meet a horror movie cliche ending. I feel his hand on my shoulder, force me to turn around and look at me. His blue eyes are cold and uncaring but he looks at me, taking in my features. He starts to back at way and a smile actually dances on his lips as he steps back and turns to walk away; shooting the first person he comes in contact with laughing as he does it. He laugh is the last thing I hear before the world around me goes black….

My night, as usual, is sleepless. I find myself spending more time on Tumblr than actually sleeping. The events of that day are forever burned on the back of my eye lids. And Robert’s laughter can still manage to fill a room if it’s quiet enough. The imagines and the laughter only are enough reason to not fall asleep. Slash Fics and Gifs of Gay Porn are more appealing than reliving a nightmare. But my sleepless nights are catching up with me however. If my decreased reaction time and dark bags under my eyes are anything to go by.

I walk up to my locker and see Jamie and Max standing by it. Both of them look at me with sympathetic smiles and kind eyes. “Morning guys,” I greet them as I push my way to my locker and put my locker combination in 10-5-8. Once it's opened, I’m greeted with various pictures. Most of them are of me, Jamie and Max but one of them is of me and Mike. This was Mike’s first year of teaching, he was so excited. Then he was gunned down by one of his stupid students; how this is fair in the eyes of God is beyond me.

“How you feel Beck?” Jamie asks me. “You honestly look like shit.”

“You make me swoon James,” I sarcastically say accompanied by an eye roll as I grab my Pre-Calculus book. “I’m fine. I just spent all night working on Braxton’s homework. It’s nothing special.”

“After school Jamie and I are going to that group peer support meeting Dr. Bender told us about,” Max informs me. “I was just wondering if you’d like to go with us. After the meeting we’re going to go for Thai.”

“Count me out.” I tell her as I close my locker. “I’m not going to relive that day with a bunch of strangers. It’s just not going to happen.”

“This will be good for us,” she states. “All of us need this. We can’t just keep this shit bottled up.”

“Watch me.” I sneer at her before pushing my way past her and Jamie. All eyes are on me as I walk into my first period class. Not even the judgy glances of my peers can get me to relive that day. They are all saying the same thing in their minds; Rebecca should have died too. And I’m starting to believe they are right...