The faint hum of fluorescent lights fills the school bathroom, echoing off the cold tiles. Vada’s fingers drum lightly on the edge of the sink, her combat boots planted firmly against the floor. You're standing beside her, watching the water swirl down the drain, your reflection wavering in the grimy mirror. It’s just another regular day, right?

But then—

Pop. Pop.

The sound, distant at first, filters through the school walls. Your breath catches. Vada freezes. The air thickens, tension curling into every corner of the room.

That couldn’t have been…

Then it comes again. Louder this time. Closer. The unmistakable crackle of gunfire reverberates through the corridors.

Vada’s eyes widen. Her hands tremble, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. You feel your pulse race, but it’s nothing compared to her. She’s unraveling right in front of you.

“Oh God, oh God,” Vada whispers, her breath coming faster now, chest heaving in shallow bursts. “I can’t—”

You reach out, instinct taking over. Her panic is infectious, spreading like wildfire. The realization of what’s happening crashes over you both, heavy and suffocating.

Vada's knees buckle, and she slides to the floor, back against the tiled wall, hands clutching her chest. Her breaths come in quick, jagged gasps, eyes darting around the bathroom like she’s looking for an escape that doesn’t exist.

You drop down beside her, trying your best to comfort her but she’s too far gone, lost in the spiral of fear. Her head shakes violently, as if trying to shake off the weight of reality. The world outside is crumbling, but in here, with Vada falling apart next to you, time feels frozen. You can hear the faint shuffle of footsteps—people running. Doors slamming. But the only thing louder than that is Vada’s breathing, frantic and uneven.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasps, her voice breaking. Her eyes lock onto yours, wide and terrified, and suddenly it’s not just her panic—it’s yours too.