When Damian finally lets go of my arm, I realize we’re not as far from the school grounds as I thought.
We’re just tucked away. Out of sight. Out of reach.
The noise hits me first when I step out.
Shouting. Too many voices layered over each other. Someone is crying. Someone yelling for people to move back. The alarms aren’t blaring anymore, but the tension is still thick, pressing in on my chest like it never plans to leave.
Students cluster together in uneven groups. Some are holding their phones up, others are gripping each other like they might fall apart if they let go. Teachers move through the crowd, trying—and failing—to organize anything. Their voices are sharp, strained, louder than usual.
Nothing looks normal.
My stomach twists.
So this is what Damian pulled me away from.
