It's going to be okay.

I hear the bullets go through me before I feel them.  I hear them tear through my body and burrow into the bookcase behind me.  I may have screamed.  I'm not sure.  If I screamed, it was for Parker, not myself.  One hits his chest, two in his stomach.  I feel his blood splatter across my face, and feel my own pouring between my fingers as I press them against my side.

Stop bleeding.  Stop bleeding.

  I'm not sure where they hit me; it's just pain, just shaking, just his hand holding mine.  

Another shot rings out, and I hear a grunt as Patrick falls again.  Is he dead this time?  I don't know.  There are so many shots; I can't tell who's living and who isn't, because both are silent.  Silent as death.  The only noises are the rounds being fired, the fire alarms wailing, cartridges clinking and the moans of the injured.  I can faintly hear police sirens outside, helicopters.

Where were they?  Why aren't they helping us?

Eric leans down and fires another round under a desk.  That was where Isiah had been hiding.   
"I can't believe I just did that," he murmurs.  Does he regret it?  Is he finally realizing what he has done?  "…Cool."  
I take in another gasp of air and look over at Parker.  His eyelids are fluttering, his lips trembling as he tries to keep his blood inside him.  His pale eyes drift over towards me, and his grip on my hand tightens.
Dillon grins at his partner, his curly, uneven hair sticking out from under his black beanie.  He then fires a shot under another desk, and I hear bones crunch.  Someone else is dead.    

"Who's ready to die next?" Eric cries, his voice high, unnatural.  
I can't feel my legs.  I can't.  Why can't I feel my legs?  I start sliding down, the bookcase not enough to keep me propped up.

I hear something being dropped.
"Listen up!" the boy snarls, and there is an explosion.  A girl screams.  

"This school is DEAD!"
He has climbed up onto one of the shelves as he surveyed the ruins, the blood.  He then leaps down and starts shooting at the books.  They shatter into fragments of paper all around us, fluttering down onto my chest.  He is so close.  I can hear his breathing.  

Why? Why are they doing this?

Dillon whoops, sounding like a kid who's favorite football team won the bowl, not a monster who has spent the last half hour shooting children, and hoists up his semi-automatic, shooting out the display case at the front of the library.   He then ambles over to one of the study tables, chuckling all the while, and shoots Mark.  
I close my eyes.  I try to think of anything but the pain.  
We are riding the Ferris wheel.  We can see all of Columbine from the top; it's nighttime and everything is beautiful.
Parker brushes his thumb against my knuckles.  "It's… going to…be okay," he whispers.  He tries to say something else, but it is drowned by the sounds of three more shots being fired.  I look around the edge of the bookshelf, not wanting to.  
No.  They were walking towards John and Nicole's desk.  

BANG.  
Nicole.  
BANG.  
John.  
BANG.  BANG.  BANG.
Dead, dead, dead.

I hear one of the gunmen talking.  It's to a kid hiding under a chair.  Some kid name John Savage.  
"What are you doing?" John asks.
Dillon sighs.  Bored.  "Huh.  Just killin' people."
I shiver.  Just killing people.  That's all.
They tell him to run.  After the third time, he does.  
Then Dillon shoots Daniel.  
And then, after sneering at Evan, after throwing a chair and screaming, they're gone.  Just gone.   The teacher is still holding the phone, crouching behind the librarian's desk.  The fire alarms are still going.  I keep sliding down, down, down until my head is resting on the cold tile.  My stomach is wet.  I can't feel my legs.  Parker soon crumples next to me as well.

Why?

Everything hurts.  It hurts so much.  I start crying.  For Parker, for John, for Nicole, for everyone.  Are all my friends dead?  The tears run tracks down the blood on my face.  I don't even know if it's my blood anymore.  Suddenly, I feel him pulling me towards him, pulling me until my shoulder brushes against his.  I release his hand and instinctively roll onto my side, and I felt his body move in behind me, pressing against my back.  His breath is ragged and forced against my neck as he lays his arm across me, his fingers resting against mine, cradling me.   I want to tell him sorry.  I want to tell him that I've loved him since the first moment I saw him, the first moment he smiled at me.  I want to tell him everything.  
…But I don't need to.  He already knows.  I feel his nose brush against my cheek, his familiar smell making me warm.   "It's… going… to…be okay," he says again.  I open my fingers and his interlace with mine.  I can't stop crying.  He kisses my ear and rests his head back down, his forehead, his hair soft against my trembling neck.  
"I… I'm scared…" I gasp, and he holds me tighter.
"I…I made you a promise… didn't I?  …Whatever… happens, we'll…d-do it… together."
I turn my head ever so slightly and look at his face.  It was still beautiful.  His face was becoming pale, but his cheeks were still flushed.  They always will be.  
"Are… are you ready, then?" I murmur.
He kisses me again.  "I always will be."
I let my head fall back.  I let my eyes close.  
It's going to be okay.  
It's going to be okay.  
The sobs stop.  So does the throbbing.  
I don't hear the screams, the groans, the cries.
    
"Ellecy?"
"Yes…?"  My breathing is slowing.  I am tired.  Perhaps I'll sleep.  Just for a little while.  I will wake up, and Parker will still be here.  
"I love you."
I sigh.  I feel his lips against the nape of my neck.  
I feel light.  So sleepy.
Just for a little while.  Just a nap.  
It's going to be okay.  
"I love you, too."
One more breath.  One more smile.  
I'm not scared.  Not anymore.  I see my Nanna.  I see Grandpa, too.  I see John and Rachel, I see Daniel, I see Mr. Sanders, so many people.  
Daddy?
I laugh.  The last rise.  The last fall.
"Come on!"  They shout to me, smiling.
I feel Parker's grip loosen.
It's going to be okay.  
I see him join them, just his back at first, just his favorite sweatshirt.  He turns around.  His eyes are blue.  So blue.  
"Come on, Ellecy," he says.
I'm on my way,
…I'm on my way.