There it goes again, the loud sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. It's the sound that I fear the most; it always reminds me of my beloved friend who is no longer with us.

Harriet died unexpectedly three years ago. It was on New Year's Eve, when our whole class was having a midnight pool party. We were having a great time at the pool, splashing, joking, doing cannonballs when we heard a girl's scream. My hair stood on end; I immediately recognized that voice, that scream: Harriet.

A group of us immediately rushed towards the sound of the scream to find her in the arms of a strange man. He gave us a terrifying glare. We were so afraid that we froze, unable to do a thing. The man pulled a heavy metal object from his trench coat pocket:

It was a gun.

The man pointed the barrel of the gun towards us. We panicked and rushed inside of the hotel, momentarily forgetting about Harriet. Some of my classmates shut themselves in cabinets, and many hid in the bathrooms.

I rushed to the door of my hotel room. The bedroom was locked, so I had no choice but to hide in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I was there all alone.

I was crouched beside the cabinets, breathing heavily, engulfed by fear. After a while, I heard footsteps, heavy footsteps.

Then I heard someone saying, "Come out. Come out wherever you are."

I assumed it was the man with the gun. I squeezed the cabinet door so hard that my fingers hurt as I thought to myself, "Don't come in. Please don't come in."

The lighting was dim in the room, the smell of eggs wafting through the air, evidence of the breakfast I had cooked just hours earlier.

That was when I remembered what we had all forgotten in our haste to escape the danger: Harriet. I knew in my heart that she was struggling and that I had to help her. So I grabbed a pan in my left hand and a stack of plates, spoons, and forks in my right.

I darted across the kitchen and cowered behind the door. I held my breath as I dropped the plates, spoon and forks to grab his attention. I knew it worked when I heard footsteps approaching. I prepared myself to hit him with a pan, thinking that I would save Harriet and be hero of the year in our town.

A few moments later than I expected, someone approached the door. I placed the chair next to the door, climbed on top of it, and waited for him to come in. When the door opened, I swung at him, but he managed to avoid it. I couldn't even determine if he was still carrying Harriet before he pushed me away effortlessly, sending me tumbling to the floor.

I felt hopeless. How could I be naive enough to think that I could pull such a stunt all by myself?

I lay helplessly on my back and refused to look up. For all I knew, he could be pointing his gun at me at that very moment.

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Thank you for taking you time reading the prologue. I hope that you enjoyed! For all those who have read, please leave a comment and a vote because it will certainly help me discover a lot of mistakes and make a better writer. Thank you 😊.

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Updated: April 16, 2017

Edited by: Veniaestrele

Thank you so much 😄. Because of the changes you made, it made me feel 100% motivated hehe 😂

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The next chapter is all about Michael, our protagonist. Please enjoy and continue reading 😊. May GOD BLESS YOU ALL 😇.