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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
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Eiko had never seen an actual gun before, not this close, not in person, not in a situation where it could point at her and kill her with a twitch of a finger. Why would she? She was secure in life, her hobbies genteel, and guns were for more aggressive types, ones who lived away from the city and in America. There was no right to bear arms in her homeland, which suited Eiko just fine.

But now Eiko was beginning to regret being so sheltered. She was vulnerable out here, alone with only someone else's sword-arm to protect her. Deep down, she was truly grateful that the guns were being pointed at other people, and for once, this selfish thought went unchallenged in her mind.

She kept herself just close enough to catch the conversation between the boy and girl in the standoff, trying to place them and their names. No matter how hard she tried, she didn't recognize the other boy.

The girl, though, she'd seen before. During her frequent trips to the library, Ericka Bradley had often been on hand to help her find what she needed. The recognition triggered a pang of sympathy for her; Eiko hoped that she got out of this standoff alright. Then she heard that Ericka had killed someone. Frankie Watson, one of the more awkward students at school.

She didn't know what to think about that. Nor did she know what to think of the discussion of the announcement. The boy said Danya was lying about her killing in self-defense. Did he do that? Eiko had no idea; she knew as much about this sick game as she did about guns.

Then Bradley began to act strangely. She talked about the psychology behind the announcements, the little half-truths that made people panic and misjudge, causing more and more death. Just hearing about the effect made Eiko's stomach turn, and the more Ericka talked, the more she began to dread something. She didn't know what it was until Ericka raised her gun again.

Could Eiko have moved and saved the boy from her bullet? There was always a slim chance that she could sprint fast enough to push Bradley over and knock her aim off. Might she have tried?

No. She was frozen from being in a tense situation in an unfamiliar environment. She was unwilling to risk herself for a boy she didn't know; she knew half of the senior class and she didn't know him. If she'd had time to think things through, she would have noted that his death meant an unclaimed gun, which was enough reason to let him die.

All she ultimately did was get down, obeying Peter's order in the heat of the moment. She fell on her knees and covered her head as the sound of gunfire roared through the air. It was painfully loud, louder than she'd ever expected it, and it managed to drown out the sound, but not the feeling, of her heart trying to escape her body.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
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chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

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Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
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Not an Easy Out · The Greens