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My eyes widen at the gun being pointed at me, the feeling of my erratic heartbeat booming as she didn't have a care in the world about doing any of this. It was like she thrived off of it. The immense feeling of my fear to her, like this is something that she had wanted to do for a while.
I didn't have the energy to talk as she had stood there, tears rolling down the very apples of her cheeks. A bizarre facial expression ran across over her face, it resembled the look of hatred to me. But we haven't talked in a very long time since that night a few months ago, right here in this exact spot.
Only thing is back then I wasn't as strong and did a lot of dumb things, would most likely be fearful about dying alone. But that was pushed to the very far back of my mind, I didn't have a care in the world about what would happen to me. I wasn't just one person anymore, my baby was a giant part of me. And I didn't even begin to question for my life, but my child's future.
"Bianca," I said in a soft warning, gripping my stomach. "Put down the gun, whatever you want to talk about, we can do it. Okay?"
She grew hysterical as if I was the one that had been holding her at gunpoint, but it's like she was going in and out of whatever did this to her. I almost wanted to say that it had looked like she doesn't want to pull the trigger, but something compelled her to do it. As if she couldn't stop.
"Please, don't do it." I begged in fear, while my hand clenched at the curve of my stomach. The idea of dying or potentially my son dying is what made me weep in agony. "Bianca, I don't know what I may have done to you, but we can work this out. Please don't do this."
The look of her face showed a thing of blood on her cheek, which made me weep louder and I watched as the end of her finger squeeze on the trigger. A loud scream emerging from me as she looked another to not see the mess she was about to create, getting what she had wanted.
My eyes widen in fear as the gun went off and the sound of glass shattering followed by a boom of thunder at the same time, masking what just happened as I fell back onto the hard floor of shattered glass. I could feel water falling down my arm before looking down and seeing a trail of blood dripping from my arm, before her boots had clicked against the floor in front of me.
I gripped my arm before scooting back, not caring if I was cutting myself even more as long as I was attempting to get away from her. But as soon as my back hit the cabinet, I crouched down before making sure to cover my body to brace for impact. A bunch of fear running through me.
She was going to kill me and the last thing I've said with Zayn was that I blamed him for all of the pain in my life, and ending our fight by ruining his friendship with someone important to him.
And then I started thinking about how she was going to do it, what was going to happen after she had began taking not just one life but two. Until it made her feel brave about ending it, not only ruining what had been a friendship I thought existed between us. But also two innocent lives.
