• Rain drummed against the windows as Phoebe pressed her face against the frigid glass. A quiet chatter buzzed around the bus, though she wasn't listening. It almost seemed like the red-head wasn't entirely there; it was simply a shell awaiting the return of her absent mind. Her eyes fluttered shut, ears listening to the rythm of droplets against the glass pane. Every now and then, the bus would stop and people would leave;more people boarding in place of the last. However, it seemed like Phoebe had been here longer then anyone.
    *
    Phoebe had begun to lose count of the times she had heard that little bell ring, notifying her of when the bus would come to a halt moments later; when a young male boarded that caught her eye. She glared in his direction; her hazel pools following him until he finally took a seat towards the rear of the bus. As he brushed past her, she couldn't help but feel as though he was familiar. The thought tickled the back of her mind for a time until she shrugged it off, returning to her day dreaming. The wheels soon started again.
    *
    Not long after, a man suddenly stood up and casually walked to the front of the bus. Typically, a person will make their way up the bus isle only if they are going to ask the driver something or, more often than not, to leave. However, what Phoebe found odd was that the bus was still going at it's average pace. The skies were still dimly lit, the sketchy figures of other cars and fences seemingly whizzing past them, nothing had changed. Phoebe sighed; wondering what he could possibly be doing. "Sir, please remain seated." the bus driver instructed him monotonously, not taking his eyes off of the road. Silence from the other end.
    *
    In fact, there was no vocal reply from the man's mouth. He shakingly raised his hand, and to Phoebe's horror she realized that he held in his hand a gun as silver as the moonlight outside. She presumed other people had noticed what was going on when sudden screams and shrieks came from behind her as well; though she was too much in shock to react fully. Silently, she prayed that it was a dream- one she would wake up from soon. The
    barrel of the gun was pressed against the driver's poor head before anyone could do anything useful, and very slowly he put his hands up shortly after slamming the breaks and hitting one last button on the dashboard.
    *
    "N-nobody move, nobody gets s-shot." the criminal said in a low, stuttering voice, not removing the gun from the man's head. Phoebe watched in fear as the autoist stood up in an excruciatingly slow manner. Every second seemed to stretch out a century. Some people secretively pulled out cellphones, rapidly dialling numbers or texting their loved ones. Others sunk to the bus floor in hopes of removing themselves from the threat. Others just sat, like Phoebe; frozen to the spot in their terror. A crystal tear streaked Phoebe's face as she simply spectated the hurrendous act.
    *
    A hiss came from behind her, a few rows back.
    "Phoebe?" it whispered. As the red-head turned around, deep blue eyes locked onto hers. She swiftly remembered that face, for who could forget- the astounding new student she had met in English class. "H-hey..." she weakly whispered back, feeling rather voiceless. It was as if the convict had sucked that very ability from her. "I know you from English class, right?" he breathed, glancing around him before speaking again. "Don't worry...the police should be here any-" he was abruptly cut off by a gun facing his direction. "Two?" he muttered
    under his breath; worry coating his breath. He too gradually stood up with raised hands.
    *
    Phoebe finally found her voice, standing up as well. Her eyes served as the only barracades for the waterfalls behind the eyes. "S-stop this!" she cried. "Please!". The 'barricades' crumbled under the weight, and salty droplets streaked her face. The man glared at her, taking the second gun's aim off of the boy and onto her. "Look missy, I need this bus. I want everyone to get off, and..." he trailed off. Phoebe's heart pounded in her chest as she stared right into the barrel of that gun of his. It was like looking into a hollow abyss.
    *
    Sirens echoed through the air, and the villian's heart must of pounded just as hard as Phoebe's. Both of them wondered the same thing- could the heavy drumming of their heart be heard by the others? The shady man growled as he pocketed the second gun, and Phoebe breathed out a deep, jagged breath trying to refrain herself from hyperventilating. The first gun remained on the driver's head, and he looked at the spot it was pressed up against as if deciding if he should fire or not. Choosing the latter, he was about to also put away the second one and make a run for it if it wasn't for three armed men prying their way into the door, bursting into the vehicle. For a moment, Phoebe feared- was it back up, or police on 'their' side?
    *
    "Please, remain calm!" one of them grunted as the other two dived for the culprit. He quivered, firing the gun without thinking and forgetting where it lay. A pure look of shock came across the driver's face. Was...I just shot? was his last thoughts to himself before numbness took over, his body falling limp to the ground. Crimson seeped out of his head and stained the black leather, and the man who had instructed the group to maintain their calmness muttered something into a walkie talkie, and just seconds after paramedics removed the driver after doing a quick scan of the area. Soon, the criminal was forced into submission and half-dragged out, and the third man just stood there hushing the passangers; however Phoebe was yet again only half listening.
    *
    Meanwhile, she had just watched everything as a blur. It had started out with the man threatening them, then men had came in and removed him, the piercing noise of the bullet, and most importantly the cries of the spectators. She slumped in her chair, her whole body shaking. Deep, jagged breathes returned to her- inhale, exhale. The rebellious tears reoccured, and she almost felt frustrated. The high school student was worried, fearing for her life still, relieved, frustrated, and tragic all at the same time. A horrible combination of emotions encircled her as the boy from English class all but matierialized next to her. "Ssh...you look pale." he rested his hand on her shoulder, but she shrunk away out of instinct. "Do you think you'll faint, or...?" Phoebe meekly shook her head. Not faint, more like vomit. She needed to cleanse herself of the violence she had seen both mentally and physically. "My name's Alejandro, by the way..." he observed her more closely, closing his eyes seeing that this girl was clearly shaken up beyond all belief. "It's okay...they've taken him away, and-"
    "H-he was going to kill me!" she interupted suddenly, looking up to reveal her face. It was pale white, yet red as her scarf all around her eyes. "H-he...killed that driver...if that was me, then, then-" the tears came back to her without warning. Alejandro hushed her, looking away. It wasn't often he had to deal with someone so shaken up, if anything this was his first time.
    *
    "You will be escorted home. Thank you for your patience..." the man that had clearly been sent in too keep people calm said, and Phoebe glanced at him as he spoke. "I...don't...want to go on a bus..." she mumbled nonsense to herself; meaning something like she never wanted to board such a vehicle like the one she was on again. Alejandro spoke up, softly speaking to her. "You know that button the driver had pressed?" Phoebe slowly nodded.
    "That button sent off a little, silent alarm that alerted all the emergency centres. All the busses have one...in case this happens." he said, as if assuring both himself and Phoebe.
    ______________

    Phoebe thanked her escort, then walked towards her door. Placing her hand on it, she realised it was locked. Why was there no one in her house so late at night? Sighing, she pulled out her house key and unlocked the door; stepping in and making sure to lock every lock on the door. The teenager moped around for a while, staring almost lifelessly at a cereal box. She was almost tempted to have some, but the sick feeling of disgust arose back to her and she tottered into the bathroom, leaning over the toilet. Her stomach tortured her by heaving a putrid liquid into her mouth, scraping the sides of her throat raw. She kept puking up her guts until nothing came up anymore, but the gagging was still there all the same so she was more or less rooted to the spot...
    *
    A couple hours later, a light headed Phoebe sunk into the couch and switched on the TV. Her throat was sore, and she felt more sick then she ever had even though she was technically healthy. "I wonder how Alejandro is..." she murmured to herself, fluttering her eyes shut even though the television was on. The event had left her worn out and exhausted even though she hadn't been physically active, rather mentally stressed. She soon gave into drowisness, her last consciouss thought a ponder over if everyone would be at least slightly comparable to her situation, and a silent prayer that it wouldn't happen again.

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