Rating: PG (mind for slight swearing)
Status: Complete
-------------------------
Caught in the Crossfire
'Bang.'
That was all it was, all it had ever been; as she would have later realised, if she'd had the time to think back on it objectively. So little, so inconsequential; so easy to ignore.
Then both of us wouldn't be here.
There was a slight flicker of movement below, and my attention was dragged immediately from my thoughts, sifting automatically through what I knew, as I estimated the amount of blood that must have been lost by now -these things truly took longer to die, didn't they?- before her erratic struggles finally irritated me enough to fully take notice, and end them. My foot settled solidly across the lightly twitching hand and I ignored the swelling crimson as the carpet gave way wetly; waiting, until the movements finally grew weaker and I could secure my view once more of the dirt-streaked, yet somehow still stunningly beautiful, angel in front of me.
It'd been a small, short, impartial noise, that could have signified anything- a slightly muffled slam of a door further down the hall of this cheapass apartment block, or even a thudding of a mug against a similarly shitty version of a 'modern' fibreglass table- and been passed over, over ridden by her clearly intelligent mind. It could have been mistaken so easily, so understandably, that there would have been no one to place any blame.
But she, her of all people, had had to see the truth.
And it was a shame really, because, honest to god, she could have probably made it through this life, this purgatory, and back into the arms of her waiting master at the end of days. Flawless, pristine, cleansed.
But now we were both going to hell.
My grip had tightened around my weapon and the foot returned before my eyes had met the gaze below me.
"You know, today seriously wasn't a good day. For any of this." I couldn't suppress my somewhat incredulous reaction, a laugh coughing up from between my teeth. "I mean, damn it. I sure as hell didn't expect to shoot one of you, and you sure as hell mustn’t have expected to get shot.
"...Now we are both going to die. God damn."
I jerked out of my thoughts at the softly coughed splutters, leaning in as a part of my brain marvelled slightly at the rhythmic feel of even those choked syllables and I watched her body jerk spasmodically. I'd almost leaned away, before the twitching movements of her lips made me realise she was laughing.
It took me a second as I immediately dropped to her side, gun replaced but not forgotten, to accept the fact that she was still conscious.
Fuck. These things really took their time to die, didn't they?
I waited as the tremors died down, and then as the dimmed amethyst opened fully to focus on me, I saw the consolidatory glimmer of life in her eyes.
Fuck- Fuck! My hands were moving even as my brain was formulating the thoughts, and I was on my feet, gun withdrawn and aimed with deadly precision, right at the space between her eyes.
Bang, bang.
The silence was a relief as I watched the slow tilt of her body towards the floor, before her arm extended to catch her fall.
"...who said anything about dying?"
I barely had time to choke, gun slipping from my fingers to clatter against the disgusting table below, before a blinding surge of pain erupted from my side, and I stumbled to my knees with a gasp.
"Who said anything about a mistake?"
I doubled over, barely able to breathe, as another surge of pain hit -this time at my chest- and cold, tenacious fingers seemed to squeeze the air out of my lungs as I struggled to function enough to keep my head.
“How does it feel, James, to be shot two times?”
It should have surprised me, when she uttered my name, but I could think of nothing more than the tightening fingers as the grasp extended across my chest; and I couldn’t have reacted anyway after that, as every muscle fibre in my body seemed to combust into flame whilst the restraining grip held me- and I writhed, clawing desperately, ignoring the blood, until my fingers broke free and managed to finally dig through my skin to those burning lines, grasping and tearing where they could, in a desperate attempt to alleviate the fire before it consumed me-
"How does it feel, James, to be shot four times, two through your head?"
There was a sudden stillness, and suddenly the hands were gone, the fire with them, and I looked up, meeting the barrel of my gun.
"I won't be dying, James."
There was a light twinkle, just beyond the focus of my vision, and my eyes flicked to her face just in time to catch the whispered words accompanying the warm eyed smile before the impossible fingers squeezed the trigger.
"James, I won't be the one going to hell."
Bang.
----
This is my first attempt at a first person POV in a while, (as well as the first story I've written in a while) and, as you can see, I am out of practice. xD;
This is a little longer then my average one shot, you'll be pleased to hear; I am working on actually writing stories instead of OTT little excerpts. Thus this story was my experiment at actually fleshing one of them out.
This is an unusual little one shot. I hope someone enjoys it. <3 And tell me off softly, please. :c
...For the reasons behind the names, think of the relation to the Rockets, but not the actual Rockets. This is Pokemon related because of the girl. Think of this as a hit gone wrong.
XDD And I am very pleased with how evil Drillbit looks in my signature to go along with this. <3
Status: Complete
-------------------------
Caught in the Crossfire
'Bang.'
That was all it was, all it had ever been; as she would have later realised, if she'd had the time to think back on it objectively. So little, so inconsequential; so easy to ignore.
Then both of us wouldn't be here.
There was a slight flicker of movement below, and my attention was dragged immediately from my thoughts, sifting automatically through what I knew, as I estimated the amount of blood that must have been lost by now -these things truly took longer to die, didn't they?- before her erratic struggles finally irritated me enough to fully take notice, and end them. My foot settled solidly across the lightly twitching hand and I ignored the swelling crimson as the carpet gave way wetly; waiting, until the movements finally grew weaker and I could secure my view once more of the dirt-streaked, yet somehow still stunningly beautiful, angel in front of me.
It'd been a small, short, impartial noise, that could have signified anything- a slightly muffled slam of a door further down the hall of this cheapass apartment block, or even a thudding of a mug against a similarly shitty version of a 'modern' fibreglass table- and been passed over, over ridden by her clearly intelligent mind. It could have been mistaken so easily, so understandably, that there would have been no one to place any blame.
But she, her of all people, had had to see the truth.
And it was a shame really, because, honest to god, she could have probably made it through this life, this purgatory, and back into the arms of her waiting master at the end of days. Flawless, pristine, cleansed.
But now we were both going to hell.
My grip had tightened around my weapon and the foot returned before my eyes had met the gaze below me.
"You know, today seriously wasn't a good day. For any of this." I couldn't suppress my somewhat incredulous reaction, a laugh coughing up from between my teeth. "I mean, damn it. I sure as hell didn't expect to shoot one of you, and you sure as hell mustn’t have expected to get shot.
"...Now we are both going to die. God damn."
I jerked out of my thoughts at the softly coughed splutters, leaning in as a part of my brain marvelled slightly at the rhythmic feel of even those choked syllables and I watched her body jerk spasmodically. I'd almost leaned away, before the twitching movements of her lips made me realise she was laughing.
It took me a second as I immediately dropped to her side, gun replaced but not forgotten, to accept the fact that she was still conscious.
Fuck. These things really took their time to die, didn't they?
I waited as the tremors died down, and then as the dimmed amethyst opened fully to focus on me, I saw the consolidatory glimmer of life in her eyes.
Fuck- Fuck! My hands were moving even as my brain was formulating the thoughts, and I was on my feet, gun withdrawn and aimed with deadly precision, right at the space between her eyes.
Bang, bang.
The silence was a relief as I watched the slow tilt of her body towards the floor, before her arm extended to catch her fall.
"...who said anything about dying?"
I barely had time to choke, gun slipping from my fingers to clatter against the disgusting table below, before a blinding surge of pain erupted from my side, and I stumbled to my knees with a gasp.
"Who said anything about a mistake?"
I doubled over, barely able to breathe, as another surge of pain hit -this time at my chest- and cold, tenacious fingers seemed to squeeze the air out of my lungs as I struggled to function enough to keep my head.
“How does it feel, James, to be shot two times?”
It should have surprised me, when she uttered my name, but I could think of nothing more than the tightening fingers as the grasp extended across my chest; and I couldn’t have reacted anyway after that, as every muscle fibre in my body seemed to combust into flame whilst the restraining grip held me- and I writhed, clawing desperately, ignoring the blood, until my fingers broke free and managed to finally dig through my skin to those burning lines, grasping and tearing where they could, in a desperate attempt to alleviate the fire before it consumed me-
"How does it feel, James, to be shot four times, two through your head?"
There was a sudden stillness, and suddenly the hands were gone, the fire with them, and I looked up, meeting the barrel of my gun.
"I won't be dying, James."
There was a light twinkle, just beyond the focus of my vision, and my eyes flicked to her face just in time to catch the whispered words accompanying the warm eyed smile before the impossible fingers squeezed the trigger.
"James, I won't be the one going to hell."
Bang.
----
This is my first attempt at a first person POV in a while, (as well as the first story I've written in a while) and, as you can see, I am out of practice. xD;
This is a little longer then my average one shot, you'll be pleased to hear; I am working on actually writing stories instead of OTT little excerpts. Thus this story was my experiment at actually fleshing one of them out.
This is an unusual little one shot. I hope someone enjoys it. <3 And tell me off softly, please. :c
...For the reasons behind the names, think of the relation to the Rockets, but not the actual Rockets. This is Pokemon related because of the girl. Think of this as a hit gone wrong.
XDD And I am very pleased with how evil Drillbit looks in my signature to go along with this. <3
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