Bullet-Personal Narrative

So, this is what the world has become.
Bullets continue to tear through the other side of the car. The small explosions and ricochets cement my feet tighter to the ground, and I press as close as I can to the driver's side door. Every muscle in my body aches, but I know that I cannot give up here. She needs me. More than that, I promised my dad I would keep her safe. But, most of all, I swore to myself that I would never let anything happen to her, no matter what it took. A bullet shatters the window above me and showers me with glass. I reach to my neck and swipe the shards away, cutting both my neck and hand in the process. Warm blood runs down my spine and I see a puncture on my left hand. Red droplets fall to the street.
If I don't move now, they are going to kill me. I glance behind me to where the twins are hiding over the hill. I imagine they are still as I left them, huddled together with tears in their eyes. When I had first charged into the fray, they screamed at me to stop, and their screams continued for a while, but were barely audible when I went over the hill. Any noises from them would be completely gone amidst the chaos.
Could they have been found already? Probably not. They are safe from these monsters' bullets on the other side of the hill. I am the one in
There are at least six boys in the house. Two were behind a makeshift barricade of wood and brick on the front lawn and the others were peering out the house's already shattered windows. At least three of them have guns. I duck down just as another bullet embeds itself into the car’s steel. They have me pinned down, and my only small hope is their need to reload. I use my bloodied hand to recheck the cylinder in my own gun. It only holds five shots, my only five shots, and it is not nearly enough. They have bigger guns. Most of all, I would be lucky enough to even hit the house with this