Terrorist

Instinctively, I reach one hand for my gun. I flush the toilet and crack the door. Steve is standing, pointing the gun at our John Doe, shouting at him. John Doe's gotta smile on his face, his gun pointed upward.
I approach quickly and swiftly out of the lav with my gun aimed at our suspect's head.
"Drop your weapon," I say flatly, with no emotion. On the inside, I am boiling with hatred and fear.
I glance over at Andy. His head's in his hands, shaking back and forth "no."
"This can't be happening," Andy mumbles.
Most people are silent. Some are gasping, some have the audacity to scream, only making the suspect more agitated. He begins to look around the plane at the passengers.
"Drop your gun!" I yell. He's gonna shoot someone.
He begins to back away into a more empty aisle.
John Doe sighs. "The world's a gun, and I've been aiming it at my head, all of my life." He lifts the gun to his head.
I can't look!
I leap in front of the boys protectively as the gun fires. I feel a warm substance, blood, hit my back and my neck.
My arms weren't long enough to shield Andy.
Andy sits there shaking. I look at him, his eyes filled with fear. He looks like a little kid who just saw their mother get killed.
"My God, Sierra," Andy sighs quickly. He begins to hyperventilate.
"Andy, I need you to take deep breaths for me. I know this is hard and scary and traumatic for that matter but I need you to hold on until we make the emergency landing, okay? He cannot hurt anyone now. We are safe. You don't have to go through that again," I say lovingly.
"That's because he's dead, dammit! He killed himself just like Brooke did!"
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I lost a Brooke to suicide as well. She bled out in my arms. I know what that is like and you don't have to go through her death nor this man's alone. I am here, your bandmates are here, and my team is here. We can have someone meet you on the ground for you to talk to, would that help?" I ask.
"No, talking to you helps. Someone who understands. Who's seen it before."
"well, I'm glad I'm helping." I try to distract him. "So, when was the last time you've been to New York City?"
"Last month for a concert. It was the loudest one I can remember. It was awesome," he smiles, "I remember, it was CC's birthday, too. His party was sick."
"Hot damn, you guys know how to live the life!"
"IT gets tiring after a while but it's such a blessing to see the joy in our soldiers' eyes when they see us or hear our music."
"I'm one of those soldiers!" I exclaim.
"Oh yeah? Prove it!" Ashley chants. I lift up my shirt sleeve, revealing my tattoo.
"It's the BVB star, the body filled with the bands who saved my life. It covers my deepest, nastiest scar. I'm proud of it. You guys are my inspiration for living, that's why you're the star, get it?"
"Ahh, we're flattered! That's sick! When did ya get it?" Jake inquires.
"Last year after Warped Tour." I wink.
"That's sick," CC says.
"Yeah, we're honored!" says Ashley.
I forgot about my stress and fear until I felt the landing gear hit the pavement Then all of my emotions came rushing back, and I began to panic again. My hands started to shake.
"Sierra, are you okay?" Andy asks.
"Panic disorder," I say quickly.
Steve walks up to the flight attendant's area, and picks up the phone.
"Attention all passengers, we have arrived in New York City. Counselors will be on the ground to meet you if necessary. Paramedics will thoroughly check for injuries and clean up. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Come on boys, let's go and leave this all behind," I say, sighing.

Notes

Let me know if you want this story to continue after this part, I want your feedback. And thank you for the rave reviews and rates :D I appreciate it.
-Shay