When she heard the first shot, Mac reached for the desk in front of her. She grabbed Amy's hand and squeezed. She hoped Amy understood. Amy squeezed back. The tightness of it made Mac's hand ache.
They hid under desks and windowsills. Someone turned the lights off. It was natural, a routine they'd done hundreds of times, imagining a moment just like this. They had all come to expect that they would one day be next.
When the door opened, Mac shut her eyes.
Then he opened fire.