After your eighth plate of food they refuse to give you any more. You pick your teeth with your tongue. Everyone is silent and you grow irritable.

It’s quiet outside. Since when has it been quiet in the Bronx? Where’s the blaring music, the nonstop car alarms, glass breaking, idiots laughing loudly? It’s all gone. Everything is just so.. empty. You clear your throat at your thoughts pushing them out of your mind.

“So,” you direct your attention at the man who had the gun, “where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Practice,” he said blankly. You sigh.
“My father, was a cop. Taught me how to shoot. I’m a little rusty though, but could be of use, yeah?”
“Mhm.”
”..You didn’t have to leave him,” Andrew shouted cutting through the silence. Everyone is stunned but the gunman.
“Yes. I did,” he said standing up. “They were beating him to death. Even if I shot them all, he’d still slow us down and we’d be dead right alone with him. Now shut up and go to sleep. With all your yelling they’ll hear us.”