**Trenton POV** (9:03 A.M, CTZ)
"I trust you." Dalyla's words grip my ears, and suddenly I don't just live for myself anymore. Caring for her as my father does for me is now my main job in life. Nothing else matters.
"Move these fucking desks!" The first intruder orders us by pointing his dirt-plundered fingernails. Nonetheless, he's easily barrelling through them, seemingly with no expectation for us to help. After he's cleared a path, he flips one of the overturned desks before plopping down with a smile.
"Good morning, class. I'm Uncle Gus." He chuckles, keeping a tight grip on the stout gun he pulls out of his janitor uniform.
"Where the fuck is Shae?" A second man questions, treading in and walking straight to the back with us. His uniform is a replica of the first man; however, his attitude is not. This man seems much more inclined to harm us. Not only that, he has a lot more pep in his step than his counterpart. His beefy frame isn't as tall as my dad's, but he has much more weight. He's what my dad would call a country-fed white boy.
"I-" A faint and ghostly child vernacular begins, but Ms. Edleman's teacher's voice vibrates authoritatively through the walls of the colorful building.
"She wasn't here." Ms. Edleman assures dismissively.
"That's a little odd. It's the first day of class. Why would anyone be missing?" Uncle Gus giggles, happily looking along the rows of wet faces and snotty noses.
"I don't know, but she's not here." Ms. Edleman voices strongly.
"I believe she is... Teacher. Fact is, I know she is. Saw her punk-ass daddy leaving the school. I won't kill you for the lie. However, if you don't give her up, I will." The second man declares, flashing a scowl of annoyance.
"She's not here!" Ms. Edelman continues.
"You've got some balls. I'll give you that." The second man acknowledges, hobbling over to her unflinching face.
"Ms. Edelman isn't lying!" The muffled voice screeches from behind my back, and I know it's Dalyla.
"Who the hell said that?" The man whose hand is posed to knock Ms. Edelman unconscious polls.
"Me!" I lie as loud as my vocals can carry me, and in an instant, Mr. Angry is towering over me.
"Well, you better put some fucking base in your voice, son," Gus chuckles, looking at me, attempting to place his thumb on if he believes me or not.
Meanwhile, the man with anger issues has devoured all of my space. "You look... Odd." His words meet my ears the moment his palm does, leaving me with the fire-stinging sensation of his beefy handprint.
"Ahhhh!" I yelp as my tears race to see who can reach the concrete floor faster. Never in my life have I experienced being hit in the face, and with this being how bad it feels, I never want to feel it again.
"Where is Shae?" The man barks with no regard that my ears are ringing with lava and smoke.
"I don't know," I shriek, gripping my face with both hands to cover the massive spot of the pain of dragon-torched skin.
"Well, how do you suggest we find her?" His sarcastic question and his facial expression changing from uncaring to slightly less harsh after I answer let me know he wasn't expecting a thoughtful response.
"We can all go to the seats we were sitting at, and Shae's name tag will be empty!" I sob, hoping Shae will sit at the desk that reads D-E-N-I-S-E.
YOU ARE READING
Bullets In A Cold Winter Breeze
General FictionBe as critical as possible in the comments so I can improve it as much as possible.
