How did it get to this?

How did we wind up here? Not knowing how many of us would survive?

We were on a field trip, a small senior history class going to a museum for the day. We had been getting lunch when it started.

"Hey, Fínán!" One kid jeered. He elbowed me harshly. "Get to the back like the f*gg*t you are!" Yes, my name is Fínán. It's Celtic Irish. I rolled my eyes. Nobody here gave a rat's ass about me, and I didn't give a rat's ass about them. I shuffled to the back of the line at the diner we were at. It was small, cramped, and empty of everyone but the cashier and our class of 15.

As I got in line, I got to know what was the 3rd floor I'd slammed into within the past hour. I got up, glaring at the girl who tripped me, and gave her the finger. I went over to a booth and sat, no longer hungry after seeing the grime of the floor close up. I started playing a game on my phone, when the door slammed open and close to twenty men with white masks on burst in. All of them had guns. Each of the men grabbed one of us, all fifteen of us and the teacher. I was held up my my hair, despite my strength. I worked out regularly, a must when you're bullied as badly as I am. The ringleader of the group of robbers began harassing the cashier, a young woman, and demanding she unlock the cash register. All of my classmates were simply crying or begging for their lives. I was sickened. They could toss me around and yet they couldn't fight back against a bunch of pricks with guns?

"Hey!" I shouted, resulting in a gun being pressed to the side of my head. "Are we really gonna let these fucks push us around? You guys throw me around plenty often, and I can lift a hundred pounds over my head easy! So stop with the water works and fight for your fucking lives! We're possibly gonna die either way, so we may as well go out fighting!"

Miraculously, my words, the words of the bullied kid who never had anyone care about him, not even his family, got everyone motivated. I pulled my foot up behind me, sloppily kicking the fuckwad holding me in the balls. Other kids started to do the same, biting their captors or throwing the bitches off of themselves. It quickly became a mess, the men shooting at us while we punched and kicked them, but the bullets didn't stop us. A few kids got shot in the arms or legs, but so far, none of us were dead or dying. A few men were unconscious, when I got the idea to grab their guns. I started shooting back, when I felt a piercing pain rip through my gut. I looked down to see blood pouring from a bullet wound. I looked around, other students were in equally bad or worse shape.

Then I saw it.

A clearing  in the swarm of the remaining 4 men and students. I could run, save my own hide. Nobody here liked me, everyone bullied me. So why should I help them? But I knew I'd never leave them to die.

"Go!" I shouted. "Help each other get out! I'll fend the rest of them off!"

"You'll die!" The boy who shoved me earlier argued.

"Don't you dare act like you care after 16 years of bullying me," I said, laughing darkly. "Help whoever you can out, including the cashier! Run!" The boy seemed reluctant, but he nodded. The students that could ran to the others, a few helping the cashier out.

Soon, I was the only one of us left. I looked around. Was there anything I could use to survive this? Probably not. I shot the guy blocking the kitchen and shut myself in. I checked my pockets, only to find my cigarettes and lighter. I looked around the kitchen, smiling darkly when I saw a few gallons of gasoline in a corner, presumably for the stove. I grabbed as many cans as I could, yanking off the tops. If I wasn't gonna survive this, I would take these fuckers with me. I burst out of the kitchen, tossing the cans in every which direction, making sure gasoline poured everywhere.

I pulled out my lighter, when a bullet ripped through my chest. I crumpled to the ground, my lighter falling just out of reach. I felt my mind fading fast. This was it. But I couldn't let these fucks hurt anyone else. I struggled to reach for the lighter, only for one of the few bastards still standing to kick it away, stomping on my chest. A scream erupted from me, and I went limp, knowing he wouldn't stop until I was dead, or he at least thought I was.

The moment he looked away I lunged for the lighter. It was out of reach. I saw a gun next to me. Perfect. I grabbed the gun, firing it as close to the gasoline as I could. Fire grew, spreading to all of the gasoline canisters, which exploded. Fire lapped at my skin, and I curled in on myself. The pain was unbearable, but I knew none of these fuckers would be hurting anyone ever again. You know how people say their lives flashed before their eyes? That happened with me, only with faces.

The face of my father before he left forever.

The face of my mother when I came home with bruises at 5 years old.

The face of my sister when I spoke to her in public.

The face of the boy I liked when I finally confessed.

My face, glaring in the mirror moments before I shattered the glass.

I closed my eyes, hoping to stop the faces. But they kept coming.

The face of the principle after I fought back for the first time in my life.

The faces of every single kid who'd ever hurt me, physically or mentally.

I began to cry for the first time in almost 12 years, suddenly scared to die. I cursed myself for wanting to play the hero. I tried to stand, only to crumple.

"Help me!" I sobbed, drowned out by an explosion.

And then everything went black.

___________________

Fínán never made it out of the blaze. His picture made it into the local paper the next week, and a memorial was created in front of the destroyed diner. Fínán was the only victim of the blaze that was innocent, but one of the robbers made it out. He was immediately arrested and charged with murder. He was given a lifetime sentence.

Fínán's mother and sister were devastated, despite Fínán's lifelong belief, although most suspected it was fake sorrow, as they didn't show up to the funeral.

Fínán's classmates took his death the hardest. Most were baffled, wondering why Fínán would give his life to save theirs, when all they ever did was bully him and make him feel like shit. All of them felt horrible, wishing they could turn back the clock and atone for their actions. All of the students attended the funeral, and the last boy to speak to Fínán took it upon himself to plan out the entire funeral himself. It was a very somber occasion, and nobody knew what to say. They had always been too busy bullying Fínán to ever get to know him. Perhaps if they had, then they would understand why Fínán died for them.

Perhaps then they would understand why Fínán didn't just run.