A/N: This is an answer to a challenge on GSAF, but the speaker could be anyone. I hope you like it, please R&R. I love feedback.
Also, this is a one-shot fic, so don't expect any more. There will be none. Even if you pester me.
Disclaimer: Nope don't own them, they all belong to someone else, which is not me. I wish I did on them because then I wouldn't be broke.
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No Way Out
The cold metal hurts as it presses firmly into my neck, just below my jaw. I've lost all track of time, there's only the trickle of sweat down my back and the faint pulsing of my jugular against the gun barrel. The blindfold itches and I wonder distantly if Sara's okay. I hope so.
I doubt it.
She's pretty, and even I know what some expressions mean. But I can't hear anything, nothing but my own pulse, pounding incessantly in my ears. In some ways that could be good, no gun shots mean she isn't dead. At least, not by a gun.
A vision in my mind then, her head exploding like a watermelon as a .22 rips through it.
Lovely image.
Still no noise, and still no movement. How long are they going to keep me here? Where is here?
I suppose that praying for her safety (and my own) would be pointless. After all, it was an act of God that brought us to be here. Sheer coincidence. Robbers happen to knock over the bank that we happen to be at, questioning a possible witness on a fraud case.
A nice, simple case. A nice, simple interview.
Until the robbers see our I.D.s and decide that we would make nice collateral.
Noises then, finally. My pulse pounds a bit louder, making it difficult for me to hear what the men are saying. They sound angry though, and that can't be good. I wonder where Sara is.
Without thinking about it, I ask them. Maybe I screamed it, I'm not sure. They don't hit me, but they do go silent. A lone voice then, and more movement. My hands are tied roughly behind my back and something dirty is shoved in my mouth. A rag I think.
A push then, and a pull. Pushing and pulling me God knows where, to do God knows what.
I think that they are going to kill me. Maybe I should feel more scared, but I don't. I only feel numb, and worried for Sara.
More walking, stumbling, tripping. More pushing and pulling. A door, opens, closes. And then more noises. Sobbing, and laughter. A cry of pain, and more laughter. The sobbing draws nearer, and then the voice I had been hoping to hear.
She calls my name, then screams it as I'm pushed to my knees. The barrel is now pressing into the base of my skull. Distantly, I wonder if it will leave a bruise. Not that it matters, as I'm about to die.
There is a gunshot and she screams again, and I can hear the sound of a struggle. A sharp male cry is followed by a harsh voice. It quiets down again and now there is more faint laughter, though that sobbing has stopped. Maybe they killed her. I hope not.
I feel a little funny, and the blindfold seems to have been removed. My vision is dim, though, and very hazy. I try and look for Sara, but I can't see her.
When I hear a stifled sob again, I breathe an internal sigh of relief. At least she isn't dead.
But I am.