𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 50.

The moment I heard the gunshot rip through the clouds, it was almost as if my whole life had flashed before my eyes, sending my mind way back to the very first time I'd ever heard a gunfire. Back to the downtown streets of New York City. When I had been shopping with Anne. The beat of my chest from that day was pulsing through me now, and I felt the exact same, but now I was just waiting for someone to cover my eyes and ears with gloved hands and take me into a taxi cab, away from everything.

I jumped to when the square-groupers had invaded John's home, and shot the doorknob. It was an easy escape that day, but now, standing there on the runway, there was no window to jump out of.

And like the snapshot of a photograph, I was then standing on the beach at night under the stars, watching Jj pull a gun from his back pocket. The ricochet of the gunshot sounded through the air, loud over the crashing waves, soaring through my ears and causing a ringing in my head to erupt. I felt it all come back to me in a wave of disappearing photos.

And finally, the Crain house, when Mrs. Crain had shot at us repeatedly as we ran from her basement. Now, I wanted nothing more than the Pogues to be sitting in the dirty brown van, yelling for me to run quicker in a chase of survival, Jj nearly driving off, tapping the steering wheel hard and impatiently, ready to zoom away from the runway for our safety. But in reality, John B's van had it's front window shattered to pieces, the door nearly broken, and the Pogues were nowhere in sight.

"Rafe!" Ward said, breathless. "What'd you do,"

Rafe laughed, "I saved you dad," he said, through bubbling tears in his eyes.

He pointed the gun at the three of us.

I wanted to scream at him, yell at the top of my lungs that he killed the sheriff, and why he would do that, but words would not brew. So, I stood, trying to keep balance while John B held onto me, tears falling down my cheeks not only at the sight of Peterkin, but at the grin on Rafe's cheeks.

Sarah was speechless as well, barely able to stand. I felt John B's hands let go of me, sliding away from my torso, as he panted. He quickly ran over to the Sheriff.

"Hey— hey, hold still, hold still," he was rushing, falling onto his knees beside her body, "It's okay, it's o— where is it, it's okay," he searched for the wound.

I had my hand interlocked with Sarah's, the fogginess over my eyes making it difficult to see clearly. But I wasn't blind— I could see Rafe pointing the gun towards John B, while he rushed to help Peterkin.

John B hurried to untie the bandana around his neck, mumbling curse words as he placed it on the bleeding wound. Ward stood up on his feet. The sheriff strained to whisper something to John, her voice coming out painful.

Sarah's hand tore away from mine, as she placed both of her hands on her knees, bending to the ground, sobbing, whispering a series of "no's".

"Call for help," Peterkin wheezed between her words, losing breath by the second.

There was an endless amount of tears flowing down my cheeks.

John B reached for the radio strapped to her uniform. Almost, I felt a relief, until Rafe stepped closer to the two, the gun cocking.

"Rafe, no!" Ward demanded.

But Rafe was too busy stepping towards John B, the gun always pointed, saying, "Don't try it asshole." Through staggered breaths.

John B looked up, trembling.

"John B." Ward lowered himself to the floor. "Give me the radio." He calmly ordered.