I felt the surge of adrenaline flow through my body as the cold hard metal was forcefully pressed against the back of my head. The action was so violently executed that I would have undoubtedly fallen if the person had not aggressively wrapped his other arm around my neck to hold me in place. I tried to stand still to process the events that were occurring; however my heart was beating so uncontrollably that I couldn’t stop my body from fidgeting and my legs from trembling. Although, several things were unclear to me at that point, I knew just what this was; an ambush.
I soon began to calm down enough to gain control of my body again. My initial reaction was to fight this person off, yet I withheld myself from doing so because of the metallic object that was slowly indenting an open circle into my head. I couldn’t figure out who the person was, however. I didn’t have any enemies that would go as far as to ambush me in my own apartment; or at least I assumed I didn’t. It could have been a stranger who just wanted money, but how would he get in my apartment unnoticed. I looked down at the arm that was hugging my neck tightly, to see if I could identify it. Unfortunately, the person had covered his whole arm with a long sleeved, tight, cotton black shirt and a black glove, which was intended for use during the winter. It seemed that this ambush was planned carefully.
I was still breathing hoarsely, and choking at given intervals. I tried to calm myself down, yet it seemed impossible to fully regain my composure. I made another attempt to figure out who the person was by turning my head, quickly, yet carefully, to see the person’s face. It was no use; the attacker had a ski mask on too. He immediately noticed my twisted face and became tense.
“S-Stop moving!†he said in an exaggeratedly deep voice. I felt his grip around my neck tighten as he said those words to reinforce his point. I turned my head back forward in order to get him to ease the grip, yet he kept his grip tight. I struggled for air as I saw his arm move closer in, providing less room for my neck. He was now recklessly squeezing my neck, as if it was just an empty juice carton or a soda can. It was only until I nearly passed out that he decided to retract his arm. He let go of me and let me drop to the floor, gasping for air, while he stood above me pointing his gun directly at me. I could see his feet trembling and his arm move as if he had just taken it out of the freezer. It was obvious he was nervous too; probably because he made the mistake of speaking to me. I had recognized his voice and knew who he was immediately.
“What the hell are you doing, Harry?†I asked him, now even more confused. Harry, my patient, now froze in place. He still kept his ski mask and gloves on, probably in an attempt to make me reconsider who the person was, but I definitely knew it was him.
“Harry, I know it is you,†I said again. This time, realizing there was no use concealing himself, he removed his ski mask, revealing his bright red, curly hair. His pale, freckled face was abnormally reddened from him being in the ski mask all that time. His expression was a mix of frustration and anxiety. I could tell Harry was still sane and had not lost it completely, which helped me to calm down a little. I then began to plan a way to remove the gun from Harry, so I tried to see if I could assuage his anger first. However, due to his naturally unstable nature, I knew that I had to watch my words.
“Harry, why are you attacking me?†I tried to say calmly, but due to my heavy breathing, it came out in more of an exhausted and apprehensive tone.
“You… y-you never told me you were moving!†he said, stuttering halfway. I felt a chilling drop of sweat trickle down my spine. How did he figure out that I was moving? Also, how did he figure out where my apartment was? My thoughts were interrupted by Harry, repeating his last statement.
“You never t-told me that you were moving!†he said again. It seemed that he was waiting for a response from me. I tried to attain a calm, professional stance so he would not be irritated by any quirks or behaviors that I might accidentally exhibit.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I have to go on a short business trip. I promise I’ll be back,†I said falsely. I thought that telling him that I would return would calm him somewhat, but his expression was still the same, now with his face becoming almost as red as his hair.
“T-Then why are you t-t-t-t-taking Ms. Byatt with you?†He now said, stuck at the “tâ€, which made his teeth chatter together as if he was grinding the air into even smaller particles. He seemed most concerned that I was taking Ms. Byatt with me, which enlightened me to the true motive of this ambush.
“Harry, are you going to miss Ms. Byatt?†I asked him. His whole body jumped upright like a startled cat as he heard the statement.
“N-No!†He yelled, quite audibly. I noticed I had done the reverse of my intention by making that statement, since he now had the gun pointed directly at my forehead, in between my eyes so it was in the center of my vision. I quickly continued to make conversation with him.
“You know Harry, Ms. Byatt and I are just going on a short business trip,†I lied again. “We aren’t planning on doing anything; just business.â€
“D-Don’t lie to me!†He responded. Harry seemed very sure that he knew the facts. “Ms. W-Walton said you were running away with Ms. Byatt!â€
“Damn,†I murmured to myself. Ms. Walton, or Marice, was keen to gossip. Outside of her job as a specialized neurologist, gossiping was her favorite hobby. She probably slipped this information while performing a routine examination on Harry. I had to come up with a rebuttal.
“She is probably just joking Harry. Why would I want to run away?†I questioned him. He started to become less sure of his objective. His face became less tense and transitioned into an expression of confusion and sorrow. He now began to lower the gun, having it point to my chest now.
“You w-wouldn’t?†he asked like an innocent child. I felt somewhat guilty for lying to him, but my primary goal was to get the gun away from him.
“Of course not,†I said, still sitting on the floor, with my legs bent and folding onto each other and my hands placed directly on top of them. His gun was now pointed at my arms, so I knew he was not interested in attacking me anymore. I slowly began to stand up, to completely get away from the gun’s aim. I was almost able to get the gun away from him, but I had to continue to distract him with conversation.
“You know, Harry, you and Ms. Byatt could probably sit in the cafeteria and eat together if you like, when we get back from the trip,†I said while moving to the left so I could move further from his aim.
“W-would you come too?†he asked.
“If you want,†I replied. I watched his face, which didn’t seem to take notice of my slow movements. He was instead staring straight ahead, where I was seated before, smiling foolishly, as if he were daydreaming. I took noticed to this and decided that now was the best time to strike. I lunged at him as fast as I could and grabbed the hand that he held the gun in. Harry noticed it, and tried to release himself from my grip. I tried to wrestle the gun out of his hand but he gripped the trigger preemptively, releasing a bullet into my leg.
I fell to the floor and let out a loud scream. I felt an extreme burning sensation in my leg, almost as if I had stuck a burning coal into my thigh. I covered the wound with my hand in order to stop the blood from leaking out, but it had already begun pouring onto my hardwood floor. I collapsed into the pool of blood underneath me and began screaming uncontrollably. Harry stood above me trembling.
“I’m s-sorry!†he screamed helplessly. I was unable to talk rationally with him; the pain was too great.
“Damn it, Harry! Damn it!†I yelled at him. I realized that saying that wouldn’t help the situation, but I was too enraged.
“I’m sorry!†he repeated uselessly. I tried to regain my sensibility in order to give some directions to him.
“Harry, get the telephone. Please… call the hospital,†I told him still rolling on the floor to relieve the pain.
“B-but will you still t-take me to eat with you and Ms. Byatt?†he asked.
“Yes, Harry. I will. Just get the damn telephone!†I said. I couldn’t continue to be patient with him because the injury was becoming more severe.
“O-Okay, I’ll g-get the t-t-telephone,†he said obediently. He rushed into the kitchen, then into my room searching for a telephone. I didn’t bother directing him to one because the pain began to burn into my whole leg, crippling my speech.
“Here it is,†he told me. He then waited for my next orders.
“Okay, Dial 555-…†I said still rolling on the floor, now clenching my teeth together and closing my eyes to endure the pain. I paused for a while to let out a groan. Yet, I managed to finish saying the number. “Dial 555-289-9281, Harry.â€
He dialed the first three numbers and paused. I stared at him while gripping my leg, until I realized that he was not going to finish the call. I became less patient.
“What is it, Harry? Call the damn hospital!†I yelled irritably.
“I-I don’t want to go to the hospital. C-can I go with you and Ms. Byatt on the business trip?†he asked.
“Damn it, Harry, open your fucking eyes!†I yelled. His obliviousness was something I could usually ignore or find humor in, but under these circumstances it only made me furious. “She doesn’t like you; she won’t like you. To her, you are just another mental patient!"
He stood there blankly for a moment. I started at him while rolling around a little. His facial expression changed again; it was not angry this time, it was sinister. I began to regret what I had said, but the pain was too much to endure now. His trembling stopped and he let go of the phone, letting it fall to the floor, next the pool of blood. He then bent to the floor and picked up the gun to point it at me once more. This time, however, there was no trembling, no fidgeting; he was still. He held the gun directly at my forehead.
“Harry, I’m sorry. Please… call the hospital,†I said in a poor effort to calm him down. He didn’t say anything. His finger began to hover over the trigger. I began to panic again.
“Harry, don’t shoot! Are you mad?!†I asked desperately.
“N-no, I’m gay.â€
