"Stop" was the worst word I could have used.
All nine men fired at once.
Dozens of frightened young minds flooded the exits, shielding themselves from the shower of bullets overhead.
Most of them landed on or near the stage. Their shots were targeted at me, and with the sound of each gunshot, it seemed their aim was becoming more precise.
I couldn't do anything but stare at the podium, even as Andrew and Riley sat near the most vulnerable area in the room. My body refused to move. But what did it matter? Their bullets couldn't kill me, no matter how much I wanted them to in this moment.
I didn't want to see the bloodshed unfolding in the room. I didn't want to know whose lives would be lost on account of me.
Someone pushed me to the ground, throwing me out of my panicked trance. I looked up, and General Harding was on top of me, shielding me from the bullets as they rained down on the stage.
He turned and shot at each man on the balcony. One by one, each shooter tumbled to the ground. The perfection of his aim was enough to distract me from the terror at hand for a second.
"Let's go," he said, and pulled me into his arms.
He carried me backstage into the private dressing room. My mind returned back to earth once he set me back on my feet.
"I need to find Andrew and Riley," I breathed, trying to keep the fear in my voice at a minimum.
After my nearly one-hundred and thirty years of life, I couldn't afford to let a situation like this throw me into hysteria, but my heart raced when I thought about them.
The bullets stopped, and all that was left was the sound of mass panic. Mass panic in the theater, in the hallway, out in the lobby.
The rest of Peter's men entered the room, Andrew and Riley sandwiched between them.
"Oh, thank God," I gasped and embraced them.
Riley's face was red with tears, and her body trembled uncontrollably. She sobbed into my chest. Andrew was pale with shock, his mind trying to grasp what on earth he had just experienced.
Matthew and the event coordinator ran into the room.
"Did you call your father?" she asked, her tone breathy with adrenaline, "NBC, ABC and practically every news station in Florida is out there. It's a disaster."
"Yes, he didn't pick up," he answered.
Matthew's expression was covered in shame, as if he had a part to play in this, even though I know he didn't. He ran his hand through his long blond hair, trying to figure out what to make of the situation.
"I am so sorry, Victoria, we had no idea, we didn't even know how this happened, we have security here, I don't know why they weren't in the room. If it weren't for General Harding, God knows how many people would have died," she replied.
"It's alright, Laura, it has nothing to do with you," I said, and turned to Peter, "thank you. You didn't have to do that. I'm not a paying customer."
"Being in the military means handling domestic terrorism as well," he said.
We stayed in the dressing room until there was nothing but silence surrounding us.
"We're canceling the rest of the convention, there's no way we can go on like this, not with lives lost," Laura said.
Matthew rose from the red lounge chair and walked into the hallway without another word. His lips were tight with anger, and his fists were balled with the fury of injustice, but he was reserved in expressing it.
It was perfectly normal to be enraged. This was an atrocity, an atrocity that happened under his watch. He had the right to be angry, especially considering part of the blame went on his father. The more I marinated on it, the more my chest burned.
"If you want, I can cancel your hotel stay," Laura offered.
"Yes, please do," I said, my tone rough around the edges.
"Cancel mine as well," Peter said.
I was certain I had lost Riley at this point, but I couldn't find it in me to force her to endure staying in the building where she was inches away from being killed. I would never stay another night in any one of Samuel Kelly's hotels again.
"If you're comfortable, I'll get the bags, Victoria," Andrew offered.
"Yes, that's fine."
Riley finally released me and followed me into the hall. I wasn't about to go out into the theater. I didn't want to see or know about the casualties. It was too great a pain to bear.
"Let me know when you're ready to leave, I'll get the van moved to the parking lot in the back," Peter remarked.
"You're going to take me all the way back to New York? Isn't that out of the way? You don't even know where I live," I pointed out.
"Give me your address," he answered, "I know what I signed up for when I chose to give you a ride."
His kindness was a small light in the midst of all this darkness. I needed it if I was ever going to get by. I gave him a weak smile.
I traveled down the hallway with Riley as slowly as possible, preparing myself for the line of news anchors I would have to face once I left the solitude of the area. If I could avoid them, I would, but of course, people were bound to get footage of me.
I picked up the pace once I saw the cameras and pulled Riley closer to me.
I fought the urge to glare as I saw Samuel emerge from his car, wrapped between ten security guards and pursued by every news outlet in the city. Oh well, at least the attention wouldn't be on me.
I enjoyed the silence in the van, patiently waiting for Peter to arrive so I could leave this trainwreck behind.