A Proscriptive Relationship

:A Proscriptive Relationship: 51

It felt like time had stopped. Seeing someone shot was a lot different than hearing about it. The scene of his body tumbling to the ground played over and over again in my head. Jeremy lay stationary on the ground while Shawn hummed to himself, stroking his pistol with his thumb. Casey let out a horrified croak, her eyes glued to Jeremy's motionless body.

I felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me, and through my veins. Numbness spread through me. Shawn shot Jeremy. Jeremy could be dead.

"Jeremy?" I called, staring at his motionless body. "Jeremy! Jeremy, get up!"

No response.

My chest tightened. "Jeremy, please! Please!" I pleaded pathetically. "Jeremy, get up! Don't die!"

"Holly," Casey started in a quiet voice, sounding like she had been crying. "He could be alive... The bullet didn't go through his heart or head..."

Casey had a point. He had been shot in the stomach. Lance survived two bullets. Jeremy had to be able to survive one! But he was still unconscious and hurt. There was still the chance he could die.

I looked from Shawn, to Jeremy, and back to Shawn again, helplessness welling up in me again. Everyone was being harmed, and it was my fault. Jeremy didn't even do anything! Neither did Casey! Anger filled me and I clenched my fist, taking a menacing step towards Shawn. "You-"

"You... bastard."

My eyes shot open, and I twirled around to see Mr. Heywood pushing himself off the ground.

"Mr. Heywood!" I cried in disbelief and relief.

Mr. Heywood didn't even look at me. His eyes were focused on Shawn, anger blazing in them. Shawn smirked back at Mr. Heywood, cocking his head to the side.

"You're alive?"

"And you're about to be dead," Mr. Heywood growled, starting towards Shawn. He took about three steps, then let out a groan, and started falling.

I quickly stepped forward to catch him, grasping onto his shoulders. His weight almost knocked me over, and I struggled to keep him upright. Shawn chuckled from where he was, shaking his head pitifully.

"Chris, you can't even stand. What makes you think you're going to kill me?"

Mr. Heywood shoved me away from him. "I can stand fine."

"Mr. Heywood-" I protested, staggering back a few steps. He ignored me, swaying on his feet for a few seconds.

"That was a pretty cheap shot earlier," Mr. Heywood commented, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "Are you really that pathetic? It's a wonder how you became gang leader."

Shawn leered at Mr. Heywood. "Regretting leaving?"