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As he turns to me to say goodbye, we both flinch at a sudden onslaught of intrusive popping noises.
It takes me a moment to register that these noises aren’t fireworks, and they’re certainly not the sound of a car backfiring.
They’re gunshots.
“Fuck,” he hisses in a way that makes it sound like he’s more annoyed than terrified. He begins scanning the fairgrounds for the source of the shots.
I’d be running right now if not for him. He’s just standing there, acting as though he has to be the one to deal with the threat.
Now, I’m stunned, frozen to the ground as the screams of joy around me devolve into shrieks of terror. The atmosphere around me has turned from water to blood, and I’m more defenseless than I could have imagined.
“Get down!” the man growls, pulling a gun out from inside his jacket.
I’m too deep into shock to register what’s just happened in front of me, but I know it’s outside the realm of the expected. This man that I’ve been holding hands with, talking so casually with, has had a gun on him the entire time.
Was he anticipating this? How was he so prepared to look for the attacker?
Just as I’m about to force myself to sprint in the direction of the parking lot, the crowd around me erupts into chaos. My faculties are already exhausted just from trying not to panic, and I’m one of the smallest people in a hundred-foot radius.
As soon as everyone starts running, I’m fucked.
The man in the suit returns fire. The shots ring out in earth-shattering booms, and I swear my eardrums are ready to explode from the pressure.
Now, all I can hear is ringing.
No more screams, no more internal monologue detailing the possible causes for the noise.
I’m trapped, and my chances of escaping alive and in one piece are dissolving before my eyes.
Just as I can’t imagine things getting any worse, I feel the crowd shifting around me as everybody pulls themselves out of their own horrified trance.
I’m crushed up against two large men as they struggle to find their families, and one of them accidentally smacks me in the face as he turns around.
Blood begins to pour down my shirt immediately, and I realize that I’m not going to make it out of this if I don’t get to somewhere I won’t be trampled.
I have to get out of this crowd before I sustain much greater injuries than a nosebleed.
I can see everyone’s faces contorting in horror as the ringing in my ears drowns out their screams. The whole scene before me is surreal, and I’m starting to feel an unwelcome sense of calm wash over me.
If I’m feeling calm, then my mind has already made itself up about whether we’re getting out of here alive.
I’ve resigned myself to an early grave, sprawled across the packed dirt of the fairground roads as thick black blood stains the earth around me.
Just as I’m afraid I’ll never move from this spot alive, a shockwave of sense flows through me, and I take off as the crowd begins to disperse.
There’s a chance for me. It’s slim, but I won’t let it go to waste. I’d never forgive myself if I chose to die so young, and neither would my family.
As I continue onward through the horrific scene, I trip over the body of a large man in his mid-thirties. He writhes on the ground, screaming in agony as all the blood in his body drains into a pool around him. He’s been hit by a couple of bullets, and the lead just keeps flying.
The second I begin to fall forward, another man’s foot kicks me in the face as he sprints to whatever relative safety he can find. Nobody is looking where they’re going, and I’m the one who must pay for it.
The impact of the kick is dizzying, and the world around me spins into nonsense as I fall face-first into the dirt.
I should have stayed home. I knew it was a bad idea to come out here tonight, even if the worst thing that happened was getting teased about being poor.
Another night in my apartment could have been lonely, but it would have beensafe.I could have stopped pretending for just one night.
Pretending I belong here, pretending there’s anything I can do about it.
