The bullet whizzed past me and exploded the wall on the other side of the room. I really wished I was somewhere else instead of cowering behind the wooden box I was currently pressed up against in fear. It was a pitiful shield, but I couldn't move, not with the war zone going on behind me. I didn't even have a weapon. "We're gonna die here," I growled. It was more of a complaint than a exclamation of fear.
"We are not gonna die here," Bryan snapped at me as he leapt up and shot over the box.
"Says who?" I snapped back.
"Says me." He crouched back down next to me as five more bullets lodged in the wall.
I shook my head. "You? You is definitely gonna die here."
"Not if I kill him first, and I've still got," he looked down at his watch, "two minutes left. A lot can happen in 120 seconds."
Three more shots.
"Well you won't live to see 121 if you don't get a move on. Tick tock, motherf*cker."
He jumped up and fired two more shots while I sat there, paralyzed in fear. "I never should have opened that envelope." I snarled through gritted teeth.
*Rewind two weeks*
"Open me," that's all it said. No sending address. No return address. No name, further instructions, or explanation as to why there was a mysterious envelope sitting on my desk that hadn't been there yesterday. Just, "Open me." It wasn't even sealed.
I rolled my eyes then cautiously peered into the envelope, but all I found inside was a folded up piece of sketch paper. Odd. With careful fingers I pulled out the paper then unfolded it and stared at the pencil drawing on the page. It looked like the screen for a cheap security camera. It was grainy, but I could still make out a clocked figure holding something shiny while positioned like he was running away from the building behind him. It looked like the gas station down the road from my school. I frowned at the date and time of the recording in the bottom right corner that read "10/07 1:23:14." That was this morning.
I scrutinize the page then turned it over a few times. What was the purpose of this picture? Was it a warning? A threat? A prank? I rolled my eyes at that thought. It was probably a prank or at least was supposed to be a prank. I didn't really get it, and I don't think it would be that funny even if I did get it. I mean it's just a drawing of a security camera screen. Who would think this was funny? That thought scared me a little. Who would think this was funny? Maybe it wasn't a prank.
"Fate, are you up yet?" my mother called. "You're gonna be late for work."
"Sh*t," I swore as I quickly got dressed before shoving the picture into my pocket and taking off out the door. I arrived at the coffee shop where I worked seconds before being late. I breathed a sigh of relief then put on my uniform and got to work.
After an hour I was at the register about to pull my hair out after having to deal with a particularly stubborn customer when a deep velvety voice said, "Rough morning?"
I looked up and into the deep blue eyes of the hottest guy I had ever met, Bryan Dunn, son of the local sheriff and most popular boy at the small town school that we attended. Most girls worship like drooling dogs at his feet and would sell their souls if it meant he at least noticed them. I am not quite that dramatic, but even I have a hard time concentrating in his godlike presence. Which was kind of difficult sometimes since he came to the coffee shop for a cappuccino and blueberry muffin every morning, plus a skim milk, double espresso, no whip, extra chocolate drizzle frappuccino for his girlfriend, Amy. I swear, white girls.
