7 hours- 6:30 am

The day started as usual, late. With me sleeping soundly through my 6:00 alarm, and eventually being woken half an hour later by my- rather stressed- Mother. I know I have missed my 6:45 bus, and will be -in the same tardy manner as everyday this week- arriving at least 15 minutes late to morning tutor.

20 minutes later I am flying down the road, satchel in one hand and a piece of toast shoved in mouth, trying to catch a bus I know left the end of my road at least 5 minutes ago.

Sure enough I arrive just in time to see the number 14 pull away from the bus and speed away towards school.

Ms Mansell will be pleased.

5 hours- 8:45 am

“Late again, Miss Collins. What pathetic excuse have you cooked up for us this time?”

How does she always spot me? Those glasses must be x-ray “I-uh…. slept through my alarm?” I wince at the sound of my own terrible excuse, the same one I have used all three days this week. My own lack of imagination scares me sometimes.

“Again? You know employers look at a persons record of punctuality…” I slide into my seat, drowning out the words of Ms Mansell’s lecture. The same ones in fact that she has used all three days this week. I guess I’m not the only one lacking originality around here.

I scan the class for Noah’s familiar face, but am met with only the hostile stares of the rest of my form as they are forced to listen-again- to Ms’ lateness lecture.

‘Oops’

Absently-mindedly I wonder where my best friend could possibly be. He’s the polar opposite of me, never late and has a perfect 100% attendance record, could Mr Perfect have slept in late? Not likely.

4 hours- 9:15 am

And if Today couldn’t get any worse, lovely Miss Havemore decided not to come in, and I’m stuck with some witchy cover teacher for the entirety of first period.

This also means that Kirsty Andrews, and the rest of her little gang decide that they don't need to do any work so they spend the rest of the lesson saying nasty things about people at the top of their voices, and painting their fingernails a disgusting shade of pink. Trolls.

“Hey Collins, got a date to the dance?” I know that arrogant voice all too well. Chase Taylor.

“That depends on what you're next question is,” I say sweetly, abandoning all attempts to listen to the covers pathetic attempts to get a class of 15 year olds interested in the Tudors.

A chorus of wolf whistles sound from Chases group of drones as they nudge each other in a manner so suggestive, they might as well have shouted “JAYME AND CHASE ARE HAVING SEX.” Which of course we weren’t.

Chase laughs. “How would you like to accompany me?” He wriggles his eyebrows, in a way thats probably supposed to be attractive, but just makes me want to throw up.

“Oh sorry, I have a date with a one legged minotaur that day. Maybe another time.” I reply with a voice so sweet I could have given myself cavities just by speaking.

And with that I turn my attention back to my doodle, ignoring the uproar at the back of the class.

3 hours- 10:10 am

Noah’s absence has forced me to sit by Jenny at break, now thats an experience too horrific to recount.

3 hours- 11:10 am

Bored.

2 hours- 12:10 pm

Lunch passes in much the same way as break, only there’s Food involved so I guess every cloud really does have a silver lining.

1 hour- 1:10 pm

If this torture doesn't end soon, I truly will take matters into my own hands.

2:10 pm

‘BANG’ Math had been passing in much the same manner as every other lesson until now. The entire classroom freezes, paralyzed in fear, or anticipation I guess.

‘BANG’ It’s the second noise that forces everyone into action. “Everybody under their desks, and in the cupboards, don’t make a sound!” Mr Radley shouts, flicking off the lights and leaving us all to panic in the darkness.

Minutes that feel like hours pass with nothing but the ticking of the clock, and the quiet breathing of 20 panicked souls filling the air.

Then there’s a loud rattle as someone tries to force their way into the classroom through the locked door. The entire room is holding their breaths, crying silently or praying; to God, to the universe, Heck even to bloody Ronald McDonald.

Suddenly there’s a loud crack, and light floods the room. He’s here. Constrained sobs break from people's mouths as they begin to sob uncontrollably into the shoulders of their friends.

I duck out from underneath my desk, to find I am not the only one. Most of the class is stood up, to face the shooter head on.

The shooter is dressed all in black, with clunky black boots adorning his feet. He must have been wearing some sort of balaclava at some stage, as his brown hair is rumpled, and sticking up at odd angles.

It isn't until I get a real look at his face that I begin to feel the shock, mirrored on my classmates faces. Noah.

A loud gasp escapes my lips, and Noah swivels around to face me. “Didn't think a pathetic good boy like me, would be capable of this did you?” His voice is so cold, I wouldn't have believed it came from his mouth if he hadn't been stood in front of me.

“You….You’ve killed people?”

“Nah.. just a few hits to the leg, they should survive.” He laughs cruelly. “Now people will listen to me. Now I won’t be pathetic Mr Perfect.”

Then Noah adjusts his hold in the small black and silver revolver in his right hand, and shoots towards me.

Time seems to freeze for a second, slowing down so I can capture every millisecond in my mind, as the small silver pellet cones whizzing towards me. I twist my shoulder to try and protect my vital organs. A second later a sharp pain shoots through my left shoulder, and a small splatter of blood erupts from the wound. Colouring my vision bright, scarlet red.

The entire classroom sucks in a breath, starving me of oxygen. My head begins to pound so hard I can only concentrate on the pain, and the blood seeping out of my arm.

Suddenly my legs give way beneath me, sending me crashing to the hard classroom floor, various limbs making contact with the desks as I fall.

All around me people are screaming, sobbing, crying. My blurry vision can just make out a figure leaning over me, pressing something rough against my shoulder.

My head begins to ache, no scratch that my entire body begins to ache. And pretty quickly it becomes to much effort to even keep my barely functioning eyes open anymore.

“Stay awake for me Charlotte!” Thats Sir, he’s hoovering somewhere around my head. I don’t know where Noah is, I don’t care. I don’t know if anyone else has been hurt. I do care about that.

Then despite sirs protests I allow myself to slip into the blissful realm of darkness.

10 hours after- 1:28 am

I awake a usual to a constant beeping, this time however the beeping is keeping me alive, rather than being a nuisance.

“Jay?” My Mother is leaning over me, red rimming her bright blue eyes. Her work clothes are crumpled and there are several paper coffee cups sat next to her which explains the smell of cheap caffeine.

“Mum..” I groan, trying to force myself up.

“No stay there!” She says urgently pushing me gently down into a lying position. “We thought for a moment that you wouldn't make it.”

I gasp. The shooting, my arm, Noah. Noah.

“Noah?” I ask almost afraid of the answer.

My Mother shifts uncomfortably on her seat. “He took his own life, honey. He couldn’t handle what he’d done. Although neither can the rest of us, and where’s our relief?” A sob escapes her lips as she buries her head in her hands.

“Sorry, I just-”

I don’t have the energy to comfort her. Despair fills me as I sink back into the covers, and to think this morning I was worrying about calculus homework, and Chase’s flirtatious annoyances.

Things will never be the same.