The school bus rattled along the busy street. It was an especially quiet day. Laxman stared out of the window at the pavement on the other side of the street.
A little too late, Laxman noticed a brick flying right at him. “GET DOWN!” Laxman cried, ducking. The brick sailed into the bus, shattering against a girl, who passed out cold, and everything exploded into chaos.
Every car around the bus stopped. People came out with guns ablaze. The bus driver got up. “EVERYBODY SIT DOWN!” he bellowed, shooting his pistol at the ceiling of the bus.
The bus became quiet, but from outside, gunshots assaulted Laxman’s ears. The bus conductor was shooting anyone who tried to get into the bus. Laxman got in his seat and looked outside the window. What he saw scarred him for life.
The street was painted in blood. People were getting riddled with bullets. Every bullet that entered a person’s body erupted in blood, as it splattered the street with red. The worst was when it entered their heads. The head shattered, pieces of skull and brain flying in every direction.
A man ran at the bus. The driver aimed his pistol and fired. The man exploded right outside Laxman’s window. Blood splashed on Laxman’s face. He screamed, trying to wipe it off, but it only became worse. “Shut up!” yelled the driver, his weapon pointed at his forehead. Laxman’s blood froze.
“I-I-I’m sorry, I-” he whimpered.
“Shut the hell up NOW!”
“I’m s-s-sorry-” Laxman began to cry.
The driver yelled in frustration and fired.
Laxman saw the bullet soar through the air, cutting through his skin like butter. Every nerve erupted in pain. The last thing he remembered was the spark of light, as the world went black.