Tempus edax rerum et disce quasi semper victurus vive quasi cras moniturus

January 30. 'Bloody Sunday'. Although, it's ironic to start a story with this date.

The smell of death was something unmistakable. The outside was inferno, unmistakably. 

A teenage boy, Eric, was wearing a jacket, jeans and set of gloves. He had a six-shooter on his carry, ready to use against anyone. 

He was running, looking for Nikki. The girl that he'd been with since sophomore year.

He was hoping that there was no conflict. He was hoping for something different.

The people said otherwise — bellum omnium contra omnes

"Stop!"

The word bounced off the walls, resonating everywhere. The assailant lowered his weapon. Hearing this, Eric ran behind the wall; watching, the bile rising in his throat.

"Don't do this!" She asked, numbing the assailant's judgement.

She just stood there, paralyzed out of fear. Then, she saw Eric, cowering behind. She shed a tear, forfeiting the thought of death for the colour of his eyes. They always looked blue-grey.

Meanwhile, the assailant clashed with the halves of his mind. One begged to surrender. The other issued a diktat to pull the trigger.

Tranquility for over a minute. She was terrified, he was terrified. The assailant was still roughhousing in his mind.

Then, Eric moved a sparse screw. The assailant looked his way; the former was flushed. Nikki slightly leaned toward his direction, wailing his name. "Eric!"

The criminal then looked at her, aiming for the center of it all. He shot and watched as the blood blossomed over the wound.

She had a pained, disillusioned yet woozy look on her face. The vision blurred with splashes of crimson. It paired itself with her white T-shirt and black jacket.

Eric looked on, sussing the fact. The truth never tasted more metallic than this.

She then fell backwards, thumping her head brashly on the platform. Her eyes looked tired, they tried to stay open.

He yelled in despair and anger. The assailant shot. He missed for the last time. The gore squirted everywhere once he discerned his marksmanship.

Eric ran.

Dying, she laid in his arms and legs. He knelt over the one that he loved. Within her last gasps, she stroked his moist cheek with her left hand and kissed him. Then, she lay still.

Nothing could describe the shrill pain in his voice. The voice that had conveyed his loyalty to her and her alone.

Desperate, he fished out a blue marble. A little button surfaced within the bounds of his vision.

He pressed it. Five hands backward.

Eric was again running, looking for Nikki. The girl that he'd been with since sophomore year.

He was hoping that there was no conflict. He was hoping for something different.

Time acquiesced to his will.

"Stop!"

The word bounced off the walls, resonating everywhere. The assailant lowered his weapon. Hearing this, Eric ran behind the wall. He was watching, the bile rising in his throat.

"Don't do this!" She asked, numbing the assailant's judgement.

She just stood there, paralyzed out of fear. Then, she saw Eric, cowering behind. She shed a tear, forfeiting the thought of death for the colour of his eyes. They still looked blue-grey.

Then, Eric moved a sparse screw. The assailant looked his way; the former was flushed. Nikki slightly leaned toward his direction, wailing his name. "Eric!"

The criminal then looked at her, aiming for the center of it all. He shot and watched. Eric pressed the button two times.

Time slowed down for 30 seconds, enough for him to dash over, kiss her on the cheek and say goodbye. Subsequently, he fired a bullet point square to the assailant's head, but couldn't bend time's grasp. He closed his eyes and stood still.

Gradually, motion became uniform. The assailant's head jerked back as he then fell, still. Nikki watched as the blood blossomed over the wound. The truth left a dissonant sound in her ear.

Dying, he laid in her arms and legs. She knelt over the one that she reciprocated the feeling of love. Within his last gasps, he stroked her moist cheek and kissed her.

It felt different, however. It felt that time had seasoned that one because it would be the last they ever shared.

Then, he lay still.

Nothing could describe the shrill pain in her eyes. The eyes that had loved the fool who jumped in for her.

The boy that let time devour him.