“No! No!” She howled in pain, misery as the blood dripped over her fingers and down her arms. The burning in her stomach was enough to send anyone reeling but she stood her ground regardless. The man at the other end of the yard pointing the gun at her smirked at her as if to be proud that he’d made her bleed.
“That’s the end for you!” He shouted at her a maniacal grin on his face. Was it just her fading vision from the bullet wound in her stomach, or did his grin seem wider than was possible, spreading ever further up his face, along the lines of his jaw as though his skin were ripping and his gums were sprouting new teeth.
“What… what’s wrong with you? What are you? Why are you trying to kill me?” He didn’t respond, or at least she didn’t hear any response over the sudden wind blowing all around them. His lips were moving like he was talking to her, there was a flash of something human in his eyes, then blood spilled past his lips and dripped down his chin, splattering over his shirt.
She took a step toward him, her own gun in her hand shaking. The strength in her body was waning and she knew she had only precious few moments to at least exact her revenge. She had little hope to save her life, unless this man whose face seemed so maimed could save her. The irrational thought flitted through her mind. Maybe if he died, she could live? She squeezed the trigger and a shot rang off but her arm flailed wildly with the kick of the gun. Where did the shot even go? She heard screaming and crying in anguish but there wasn’t anyone else around, where had the cries come from?
She was bleeding more, and more. Why was she bleeding? Her shoulder ached to a point where she could no longer lift the gun up to fire another shot and her legs buckled from the ache in her hip. She dropped to her knees, the force of the ground hitting her enough to send her into a fit of pain. She fell to the ground completely, her body rigid with pain.
She couldn’t talk, though she wanted to ask what had happened. Had she lost? Was this some punishment for firing the gun, for hitting some unseen specter? The fluid building up in the back of her throat was too much and she gagged, leaning her head to the side. As she looked up she could see the man with his wicked smile, the lines of his face returning to normal, his grin turning into a look of concern and upset.
“I told you to hold your fire!” She could vaguely hear him telling her. What was he talking about? He’d fired at her first? The images around her were out of focus, police sirens, spectators, paramedics helping someone to the side, none were rushing to her.
“She’s fading.” Hands on her neck, hands on her wrist, checking her pulse. She wanted to call him a murderer, to tell him that this was his fault, that it was unfair of him to mourn. The world faded, her ears rang, each breath grew increasingly ragged and soon there was nothing. Nothing but the sky.
The police officer who’d fired the shots to take her down brushed his fingers over her eyes, so they were closed to the sky. They no longer looked menacing and mad like they had when she had started rambling and talking about things that weren’t. They were at peace, almost sad.
She’d fired at him even after he’d shot her twice in the stomach. She had been waving the gun around like a maniac, people had been terrified. The shot she fired had hit an old man who had been watching the scene, worried for the woman. He was lying dead on the street now, just as she was. She had seemed like she hadn’t understood why they were shooting her again and again. It was all they could do and all he could guess was that she was suffering from some time of delusion.
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