The incessant tapping of my pencil echoed throughout the quiet of the library as I stared at the most complex math problem on the page. I continued to stare and tap until I decided that an hour of studying was enough. I slammed my large SAT booklet closed; those three blue letters on the cover staring up at me while I shoved it into my bag. I quickly collected my papers and slung my backpack over my shoulder. As I checked my phone, I almost walked straight into a trashcan. I looked around at the empty library to make sure that nobody saw my embarrassing lapse of cognitive ability, but, of course, there was nobody around except for the old librarian on the other side of the bookshelves. With a sigh, I turned back around and continued my path to the exit.  The two glass doors slid open at my approach and I was greeted with the cool breeze of the “Windy City”. I took my time to admire the orange colored sky that mimicked the trees and, now, the ground. Chicago never looked prettier.
               It took me a minute to rummage through my bag and find my overloaded keychain. With the touch of a button, the lights of my Honda Civic flashed once. The exterior of the car, which used to be white, was now covered in a light layer of dirt and dust. I grimaced at the sight of my filthy vehicle as I climbed in. Sitting down, I stuck the keys in the ignition and placed my bag in the cluttered passenger seat. I looked back at the library just in time to see the lights go out. I peered at the screen next to the steering wheel and noticed that it was almost 6:00, closing time. Having realized this, I turned the keys and listened as the engine roared to life. I pulled out of my parking space, leaving behind the vacant lot. I twisted the dial on my dash and the quick beat of Lady Gaga’s most recent chart-topping song filled the interior of the car.
               I was tapping my fingers along to the beat when a glance in my rear-view mirror sent my heart plummeting to my stomach. Something was off about the clutter of bags and boxes in my backseat… something extra.
He was crouched down and concealed by most of the mess, but it was unmistakable; there, in my car, was a man. My heart pulsed against my ribcage in a quick flutter and my breathing began to waver. With overwhelming fear I realized that he didn’t know that I had seen him. If I just stayed quiet I could get myself out of this. My fingers were shaking and the car was swerving ever so slightly towards the middle of the two lanes.
               I tried to slow my breathing and told myself that everything was fine, but it’s hard to convince yourself of a lie. With shaking hands, I turned the radio dial again. I had only moved up one station when I felt cold metal meet the back of my head. I knew what it was before the click, and it took everything I had not to scream.
               “Pull over.” The man demanded from behind me.
The radio was stuck on static now.
               “I SAID PULL OVER, NOW!” He yelled, and I felt the rattle of the gun against my head. Was he going to pull the trigger?
               The police station was only a mile away. I looked in my mirror again and viewed the image of myself held at gunpoint. With a quiet resolve, I watched the red arrow in my dash lower as the car slowed to a stop on the side of the road. The flick of the gun in the intruder’s hand was my signal to get out of the car. As I stepped out of the warm confines of my Honda, my fear slowly increases, my heart rate along with it.
               “Stand over there.”
Once again, it was the motion of the gun that directed me. I slowly walked off the road and stopped abruptly at a road sign that marked the intersection up ahead. The headlights of my car were the only sources of light in the now pitch black night. I could barely make out what the man was doing as he rummaged through my car.
                Only one mile away.
               It was as if my feet acted on their own as I took off running down the dark road, without light, my intuition was my only guide. I was sprinting as fast as I could and I could feel my lungs beginning to burn with the lack of oxygen.
               I looked behind me, which proved to be a huge mistake. As soon as I turned my head, I saw the man raise his arm, gun in hand. I watched the bullet extricate itself from its metal prison and could only turn my head back around in time for it to pierce my back. I dropped to the ground and felt the asphalt burn every inch of my hands and knees. That was nothing though, compared to the searing pain in my back. The bullet had lodged itself in my shoulder blade, which made it hard to move, or even breathe.
               My breathing was shallow and shaky as I laid my head down on the pavement. I listened for footsteps behind me but heard nothing. As I lay there I thought of my family and my friends. I thought of all the things I would rather be doing, like eating squash or even taking the SAT’s: the test that I had been dreading for almost the entirety of my junior year, the test I might not even get to take.
With a sigh, I let my body relax and focused on the chill in the air, and the roughness of the concrete. Would anyone find me here? I focused on the sounds of the trees and the air leaving my lungs. I began to see two bright lights as my head started feeling light. The last thing I saw was a passing car: a dirty Honda Civic that used to be white.