She heard the gunshot behind her, right before she saw the dent being made in a piece of scrap metal, mere inches from where she stood. Breathing heavily, she continued running, almost tripping as she went.
Her skin and clothes were covered in blood, and she had been hit in the arm by a passing bullet, but she continued. She couldn't let it end like this. They were so close, she just had to make it to safety, and all she needed was to get back to her home.
But fate had its own plans, and the woman began to tire, her breath coming in short gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut as she sprinted down the dark side street. Tears were threatening to spill, she couldn't cry now. She had to get back to her family, her sons, her husband, and her peaceful life. She needed to escape, and forget that anything had happened, yet her dream fell short.
It came suddenly, and she had no way to tell that it was coming. A gunshot, just like the others, but instead of from the people chasing her, from behind, the gunshot was from somewhere above, and in front. As it hit its mark and pierced her chest, the pain burst through, and her eyes widened.
The blood immediately started pouring out from the wound, making her too weak to even stand anymore as she stopped suddenly, collapsing onto the stone, dirt-covered road. They were able to catch up to her then, and one of them pressed his dirty boot onto her, making sure she wasn't able to stand. She was vaguely aware of multiple guns being pointed at her.
"Michelle Jones," (IDK) one of them spoke, his voice hard and cold with hatred. "This is the end of the line. Be thankful that we're going to spare the lives of you family, we could have them all killed for the treason you've committed against this world's leaders."
She coughed in response, feeling blood bubbling up into her throat. She knew that she would be dead in no time at all, and didn't bother struggling under the pressure of the foot placed on top of her.
Instead of saying something back to them, as she once would, she closed her dark eyes, her tan skin paling slightly, and her once beautiful black hair now matted and uneven, messy against the ground. Her figure, which had been so graceful and perfectly thin, now seemed too skinny as she lay there, blood soaking up the fabric on the shirt she wore.
She ignored the next words spoken to her, thinking only of her son. Her perfect, special son, who had taken so much after his father, and not at all after her. She couldn't care less though, the fact that those blue eyes and blonde hair she loved so much on the man who was with her for many years was passed on to her son made her happier than if he were to look like her.
She thought of that cowlick that would never stay down with the rest of his hair, that always annoyed the toddler, those large and innocent eyes, and that smile that always graced his face, and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips.
She almost missed the next gunshots, and the pain that came with them, as her mind refused to leave her beautiful son. And even as the white came, filling up everything from her view, she was content, despite the fact that everything she had worked so hard towards for years was gone in that instant, because the last thing she would ever see, was that beautiful boy, being the perfectly happy child she knew he would always be.
Such a short prologue. Don't worry, the actual chapters will be longer, this is just a little thing to (hopefully) get you interested.
And yes, I lied. I said I would be working on Better Days, and I am, but I did this first.
And yes, that woman is who you think she is. This IS a Hetalia story, after all. Just, set in a different universe, and with them as humans.
I should really stop making new stories, I already have enough to write as it is. But I won't work on anything I haven't started yet, I promise. For now it's going to be this, And The World Comes Tumbling Down, and Better Days, which will still be a one-shot. A really long one, but still a one shot.
Anyway, bye now! (Not going to say tah-tah because that's reserved for ATWCTD)
~Kota