Stolen My Life

I stand at the bus stop, trying to edge myself under the shelter and out of the rain, but it’s already full of other tired, cold people waiting to go home.  I sigh and try to at least keep my textbooks dry; mum won’t be happy if they need replacing.  Finally the bus pulls up and I find a seat by the back.  A man grunts at me angrily and moves back down the bus looking for another seat.  The old lady beside me glances my way then turns back to the window, staring at nothing in particular outside in the wet depressing world.

The bus stops and a few people got off while others push on.  A peculiar looking man slides into the row across from me.  His hair is covered with a sodden black beanie and small curls of red hair poke out around his neck.  He keeps his hands in his pockets and stares down at his worn sneakers for the next few stops. 

It’s almost time for me to get off and I gather my books.  The bus stops at a red light, and the man with the beanie looks up.  He has on sunnies and a big black jacket, and the few days growth on his chin makes him look rough, intimidating.  He turns around and nods at someone further up on the bus, then gets up and pulls his hands from his pockets.  In his hand is a big black gun and a man wearing simular clothing at the front of the bus has pulled one out too.  People have noticed and a woman screams as the one at the front holds his gun to the driver’s head and whispers something into his ear.

I feel my body tense, and I hug my books tighter as the other man moves to the front, yelling something, and people start handing money and jewellery over with shaky hands.  A man close to me is trying to call the police without the gun man seeing, but he does, and knocks it from his hands, then punches him in the face.  A terrified tear rolls down my cheek as I hand over my MP3 player and a ten dollar note.
“What are you crying for?” the man growls.  His voice is deep and gravely, and sounds like those bad guys from action movies. “Answer me, bitch!” he grabs the side of my head and yanks it round so I’m looking straight at him.  His hands smell of oil and his fingers are hurting my ear.  I swallow, too scared to say or do anything.  He lets out a deep, short chuckle and bows his head to look at his gun, then brings it up and points it at my head.  “Answer me.” His voice is icy and threatening. 
“I’m scared.” I manage to stammer.  He smirks and says sarcastically “There’s nothing to be afraid of.  I’m not gonna shoot you.” He touches the barrel of the gun to my temple then stands up properly and moves to the next row of seats.  The woman next to me grabs my hand and I squeeze it tight.

The two men converse quietly for a terrifying moment, and nod in my direction.  I don’t notice at first, but then I realise that they were talking about me because the other man is next to me again, yanking me to my feet.  My books fall from my lap as I resist his pull.
“Let’s go.” He moves his grip from my wrist to the back of my neck and points his gun at me once more.  I can feel adrenaline racing through my body and my stomach turning somersaults.  I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I am pushed down the bus stairs and out onto the road.  He begins to run and jerks me along behind him, weaving between the other stopped cars, but I pull myself free and run the other way.  The second man grabs me “That was not smart, girlie.” and pulls me further away from the bus.  I try to pull away again, but he tightens his grip, so I kick him in the shin.  Instead of letting me go as I had hoped, he wrestles me to the ground.  I try desperately to push his heavy body off me, but I am not strong enough, and cry out for help instead.  Some men on the bus are running towards us and I try pushing the man off me again.  There is a loud bang and then the man jumps from on top of me and bolts into the traffic and up the next street.

Everything seems to go in slow motion.  More people have gathered now, and a few are talking urgently on their phones.  A woman is kneeling beside me, holding something to my side.  Fear washes over me as I look down and realise I’ve been shot.  There is blood everywhere and a stabbing pain suddenly grips me, allowing me to do nothing but cry out in pain.  I can feel my breaths growing shorter, and the woman at my side is stroking the side of my head.  I can’t hear her words.  I feel dizzy and sick.  My limbs are as heavy as led.

‘Mum,’ I think ‘where are you?  He’s stolen my life…’ My breaths are coming out as short rasps and I let my head roll to the side.  My sight is blurry now, but I try to smile as I see Mum running towards me, but then I see that it’s only an ambulance officer.  A tear, full of regret, anger, frustration and fear, rolls down my face and let my eyelids close.