Chapter 11 #2
“Where’s my sister? You mentioned she was with you. Is she still there?”
I shake my head, forgetting he can’t see me.
“Bristol?” he asks.
“No. She went out with her friends. It’s fine, I’m safe in my room.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Liam. It’s a two-hour drive. You have class in the morning.”
“I don’t care,” he grits.
I sit up in bed and bring my knees to my chest. “I do. If you come here, I’m breaking up with you.” I hate even threatening him with it, ending things now would devastate me, but I don’t want him screwing up his life for me.
“What? That’s insane, Bristol.”
Why can’t he listen to me? “I’m serious. If you show up, we’re done.”
“You’re really testing my patience, firebreather.”
“And you’re really trying mine, riot.” I don’t call him cin bun, he’s not exactly giving me the warm and gooey vibes.
Maybe I was wrong with his little nickname.
“Riot?” There’s a dark laugh that spills past his lips. It has a deeper, more sinister undertone than I’m expecting.
I clear my throat. “It’s a more suitable nickname for you, because you make me ready for war.”
What I wouldn’t give to see his face, his expression, the look in his eyes. I clench the bedsheets in my fist.
“Ready to take up arms because of me? Charming, firebreather. Am I supposed to just sit on my ass and wait for something to happen to you?” It’s clear to me that he’s not sitting down. I hear his heavy breaths, his footfalls in the background, and something else I can’t quite decipher.
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“Yet you texted me, indicating something was wrong.”
My hand on the sheets opens and my fingers mindlessly search out something to touch, to stroke. My fingers graze the top of the sheets. “I texted and asked if you were busy.”
“You never text me before nine,” Liam says.
He’s right. I’ve made it a habit of not reaching out to him during the day, because I don’t want to seem like a needy girlfriend.
“Why are we fighting?” he asks.
Silence follows.
“Bristol?”
I sigh and glance at the clock. It’s still well before nine. “I’m sorry I reached out.” I end the call, turning off my phone, and shoving it on the nightstand.
Liam will inevitably be pissed but I need some space, some time alone. I turn on a movie and try to let my brain unwind.
An announcement blares over the speakers inside the dorm, informing us we’re on a hard lockdown.
I reach for my phone and turn it back on, wanting to know what is going on.
There are two texts from Liam, which I momentarily ignore and read the one from our campus emergency alert system, indicating that an active shooter event has initiated a campus-wide hard lockdown.
I silence the television and my cell phone. The blinds are already shut, and I turn off the lights in my dorm.
I know the routine. I’ve practiced active shooter drills countless times at school. It doesn’t mean I’m not freaking out.
I sit on the floor in the corner, hidden from the view of the door and scroll through my phone. I finally open Liam’s texts.
Liam: Why are we fighting?
Liam: Shit. There’s an active shooter on your campus. Please text me.
Another text pops up.
Liam: News reporting it’s at the Holmes Student Center.
My stomach drops.
Sophia.
Me: Sophia was supposed to head there to meet up with friends.
Liam: Are you still in your dorm room?
Me: Yes.
Liam: Good, stay there.
Me: We’re on hard lockdown.
Sitting on the floor, I bend my knees to my chest and hang my head. I’m nauseous. Sweat beats at my forehead and I reach for my trash can, feeling myself become physically ill.
Liam: Sophia isn’t answering her texts.
Me: She’s probably hiding.
At least I hope if she made it to the student center, she’s hiding and safe. I grab the remote and silently flip through the stations, finding a local channel that has cut through programming with a live news report.
The same blonde female reporter who blasted me with questions earlier stands outside, speaking about the shooting.
She’s on another part of campus, near the hockey arena, which is on the way out of town.
I’m guessing they told her to leave, and on her way out, she got news from her boss about the shooting and was told to return.
There’s no way the police are letting her anywhere near the student center.
Quietly, I stand and hurry toward the window, peeking through the blinds.
There are dozens of police cars outside. It’s difficult to see much else from the distance.
My phone silently lights up, another text from Liam.
Liam: I can’t just sit and wait it out.
And that’s when I get a text from Sophia.
Sophia: I’m hiding in the bathroom. Gunshots outside. I’m freaking out.
Me: Your brother is panicking. Text him and let him know you’re okay.
Sophia: Am I okay? There’s a shooter nearby.
Me: Just keep quiet. Stand on the toilet in case anyone comes in.
Sophia: Already am.
There’s silence from Sophia and I hope she’s messaging Liam. I send him a text anyhow, to let him know she’s at least all right at the moment.
Me: Your sister is hiding. She just texted me.
Liam: She texted me too. I’m heading out there.
Me: Drive safe.
I don’t tell him not to come. He wouldn’t listen to me if I did, and if I were him, I’d be doing the same damn thing. Sophia is his sister, his twin.