I'm scared. I might as well introduce myself that way; it's all I ever am, lately. Scared. Scared of being caught, scared of someone I know being caught, scared of him. I'm so scared for my life that I can't even enjoy it, anymore. Ironic, isn't it? This life that I'm so afraid of losing, is put on hold because I'm so afraid to lose it. I can't go to school; he knows I go to school. I deleted all of my social networks; if he sees a specific location of a post, he'll come for me. My family, my girlfriend, my best friends… I figure it's only a matter of time before he decides to take someone to bait me… I'm a prisoner. A prisoner of my freedom. Isn't that just fan-freaking-tastic? Even out of his reach, I'm sitting right in the palm of his hand…
Let me fill you in on the details; they're all I ever think about. The stupid details. Every. Single. One… I'm a run-of-the-mill, amateur photographer. Not the best I know, but not, like, someone who thinks they're awesome because they have 200 Instagram followers. I really just love to take pictures. Or, I did. I mean, I still do… I go around to places I've never been--to places he wouldn't look for me--and I snap some photos that I might be able to post one day, when this is all over. But every time the shutter closes, in the back of my mind, I'm wondering if it's just gunna make things worse. Get me in another situation like this… Keep me trapped. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Two weeks and three days ago, I was taking pictures in a park. Wotherson park, about 10 minutes from my house; it's got some pretty heavily wooded areas, great for nature shots and stuff. Beautiful day; birds were chirping, squirrels were chittering, children laughing, the Sun was smiling and wearing sunglasses… You get the idea. I was taking random shots; a tree here, a bird there… I saw a turkey vulture in the sky, and even managed an awesome picture of it gliding on the wind, with trees as a sort of natural frame. I decided that I'd check out some smaller models--ants climbing up a tree. As I'm watching the little guys climb, I notice something out-of-focus in the background. It could be a deer, or a black bear… A pack of raccoons… I figured these shots would be the kind you only get once in a lifetime.
I was right. But not about the contents of the photograph; what I'd mistaken for being one or two large animals, otherwise a pack of small ones, was actually a large man, wearing all black. As I continued to look, two other, slightly smaller men came into view. They were looking down at something… No… Kicking something. There was a man on the ground--though they were assaulting him, he was gagged, and unable to make more than muffled groans. The three mumbled amongst themselves. Shouted at the man. Kicked him. They just kept kicking him. The groans died down… Oh God, what was I watching… I took pictures, of course; I was going to run to the police. They'd call an ambulance for that guy, and catch the goons beating him up. Yeah, I'll tell the police; they'd deal with it…
That's when the gun came out. The big one pulled it. My body froze; this wasn't just some jumping, anymore. This wasn't beating a kid up for his iPod. This was someone's life… Someone's life… ending… And I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't yell out "Stop!" and be the hero. I couldn't run for help, and save the guy, before it was too late. I couldn't pull a sneak-attack. You think you'll be able to do these things; you tell yourself that you'll be able to do these things. You look in the mirror, and you say "You know, if I saw someone getting beat up, I could totally help them. I'd even risk my life. We've all got to help our fellow man." You lie. You lie, and lie, and you believe every word. But then… Someone calls your bluff. Someone called my bluff. And what did I do ? Watch. Watch, and cry, and pray that they wouldn't notice me. I watched a man's life snuffed out, like a candle.
Three gunshots. The loudest noises I've ever heard in my life. In an instant, I realized how fragile I am; how easily my bones are broken, how effortlessly my flesh is pierced. I'm mortal. I was always mortal, but it had never occurred to me. Not like it did, there. I can die. Not like, an old man, peacefully passing in his sleep after 100 years of life, with family and friends surrounding me. I could die, right now. Fear gripped my body like I've never felt. I dropped my camera.
I dropped my camera. Oh my God, I dropped my camera. I dropped it. Idroppedmycameraanditmadeasound. The most gut-wrenching sound. It made my insides turn, and my heart stop. A soft thud, a slight rustle amid the leaves on the ground. Almost inaudible. Almost.
He turned around. Not in my direction, at first. We were in a forest; there were squirrels, and birds, and God-knows-what running around, making thud sounds. He couldn't possibly know it was a camera that dropped. He couldn't. I finally regained control of my body, and lowered myself to the ground, with the tree as my cover. I grabbed my camera; if I could get this evidence to the cops, they could put this guy away for life, and I'd be safe. Isn't that terrible? I just saw a man die, and all I could think about is how to prolong my own life. Not avenging him, protecting myself. It just so happened that doing this would facilitate both… I made myself sick. But I continued. I got on my stomach and crawled. I crawled for what seemed like hours. Every second was an eternity. Worse, every second was an eternity of not knowing how many more seconds I'd have. He could've been standing over me, watching me crawl pathetically for my life. I dared not look back; I dared not look anywhere. Just kept crawling. It felt like forever. I thought I had to be safe, by now. I looked back. I didn't see anyone. Looked around. I was okay. I stood up slowly, still looking around. Still safe. I ran. I ran faster than I've ever run. I could get away. I could be safe. This would end, I would never be in danger, the guy would be caught, get locked up… Everything was going to be okay.
I heard a voice. One of their voices. Behind me. Yelling to the others that there was someone here. I heard them running. I was dead. I was going to die. This was it. They'd catch me, gag me, kick me until I was within an inch of my life, and then shoot me. And that would be the end of it. I was dead. I weaved through trees, zig-zagged through the forest, in hopes that they'd be thrown off. I saw the open field of the park coming into view; if I got there, there'd be witnesses. They couldn't kill me; someone would see. Someone would dial 9-1-1. I would survive. My body went into overdrive. This was my chance to live. I could still have my happy ending. I could still survive. Get him locked up, and go back to life as usual. Not much further…
A loud bang. Something faster than life whizzed past my right arm and into the trunk of a nearby tree. A bullet. They weren't even going to catch me alive, anymore. They just needed to get rid of me. Another bang. My right arm, right below the shoulder. I'd been hit. I'd been shot. Not shot at. There was a bullet, it left the barrel of a gun, and punctured my flesh. I didn't even feel pain. I was in shock. I was running. I was trying to live. I broke through the trees and into the main area. I saw people. I ran at them. Yelling. I collapsed in front of a family. I could barely speak. "Gun… Men… Forest… Dead…" The mother screamed, and shielded the eyes of the younger children. The father pulled out his phone, and mumbled "It's gunna be alright, son." I believed him. The pain. Now, I could feel it. My arm was on fire. Bleeding out. Pain. Lost. Conssc.ions…ndes…
