Mila Wilson; hopeful architect, coffee addict, and college freshman. Her life is simple. Go to school, come home, sleep, start again. She likes it that way, a stable environment and a place that lets her creative thoughts flow. But when she ends up...
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EVERYTHING becomes an unanimous blur. Tammy screams at me to get down, while others throw themselves behind the bar, front counter, and tables. A few people outside try to sprint from their tables but are stopped by gun wielding men. Four shots. Each echoing off the surrounding buildings, deafening the panicked onlooks. My mind can't seem to catch up to what is unfolding in front of me, with everything being so peaceful just a moment ago, it doesn't seem real.
And yet here I stand, staring through a dust-covered window as men clad with guns approach the cowering people on the picnic tables. I close my eyes too frightened to watch the scene before me. A gunshot follows, this time only one. Tammy screams, joining in with the manically terrified people on either side of us. Still, in my state of shock I stand carelessly in the middle of the window, completely frozen to the ground.
I feel a slender hand snake around my boot-clad ankle, gripping it tightly, before yanking it out from beneath me. Immediately losing my balance, I slam hard into the wooden floors, my elbows breaking my fall. In my panic and rush of unintentional adrenaline, the pain I should have felt doesn't appear. The impact of the cold floor knocks away my unnerving stillness and brings my mind back into action. I needed to think of something, anything. It's too late to run, and even if we tried now it would be a sure way of being shot on the spot. I have no knowledge of how to defend myself, but I refuse to believe that these are my last moments, I won't let them be.
I look over at Tammy and my heart nearly falls out of my chest. Her slim frame is curled up in a ball with tears streaming down her horrified face, silently whispering a prayer to herself. I want to hug her and tell her that everything will be okay but I know I would only be telling lies.
There's only a slight commotion outside but other than that there is complete silence, which is much scarier then any noise. I glance around at the people crammed beneath the tables and booths, awaiting the unknown. I suck in a sharp breath as I make eye contact with a young girl, possibly about five, whom is being coddled in her mothers arms.
The gun violence in New York had rapidly increased recently, nobody knew why, even the mayor was perplexed. There was suspicion over a gang war that hadn't yet reached its peak, however, as the picture of the men dressed in black crosses my mind, I cant help but dissociate them from those activities. They were formal, succinct, and with the cars, clearly had a lot of money.
The sweet sound of the restaurants' doorbell slices through the silence like a knife, my stomach dropping in fear. Fearing I'd give myself up, I put my hand over my mouth to muffle any whimpers that may attempt to escape. I needed to think fast and come up with something now.
As the door opens wider, light from outside shines on what seems to be a dropped steak knife under the neighbouring table. It wasn't much but it would have to do. The two men underneath don't notice me as I sneak my arm behind and grab it quickly. They had pushed themselves against the wall, their faces buried in their knees. I pull the reflective material to my chest, covering any possibility of them seeing it. I have a plan, not a good one but it was worth a go even if I could save just distract them long enough for the police to arrive.
