A/N: Hey guys, this is a random idea that I came up with, so yeah, enjoy my two-shot :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi or any of the characters, excluding Nick :)
The battle is fierce. Shots are fired from everywhere. Nothing is safe. No one is safe.
I'm somewhat protected by a damaged parapet in front of me. My gun rests upon my shoulder, taking the weight off my arms. I'd proud to be fighting for my country. Pulling the trigger should feel so wrong, but it's an adrenaline rush.
It feels so good to have found what I want, to know what I'm meant to do with my life. I've been doing this for five years now, and this is my first major mission. It feels amazing to know how far I've come from high school. Back then I didn't know what I wanted, everything was so confusing. I'm glad I've found myself.
With every bullet fired by us comes one back from them. Where I am now is probably the most dangerous, directly in the firing line. It was "suggested" I go to a safer place at the beginning, but I'm up for the challenge. A friend of mine next to me, Nick, nudges me and discretely as possible points to a group of bushes which could be safer ground for us. I nod in agreement. Although I don't like to admit this, it's getting really intense, much more than I ever thought.
He takes the lead, making a dangerous run through the unprotected area to the bushes of 'safety'. I watch in fear as bullets fly through the clean strip, desperate to hit and hurt someone. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"I can do this."
Crouched over, I make my run for it. I keep my head down, not wanting to look up and see the dozens of men aiming at me. And then it hit me. A bullet lodges itself in my right arm, piercing my skin. In pain, I twist my body to the direction the shot came from. Big mistake.
I fall to the rugged ground as the second shot penetrates into my chest. A loose strand of my dark hair falls across my face. I turn my head to where Nick should be, trying to ignore the excruciating pain.
"MacPherson!" He ran over, risking his own life to help save mine. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he lifted me up to his chest and carried me to the somewhat safety of the bushes. I felt his warm hand on my chest as he put me down. His hand was covered with blood, but he didn't care. With his other hand he wiped my face and said,
"Anya, you're gonna be okay, you'll be okay." It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself too.
He called for help, and took me in his arms. Still crying, I hug him back with the strength I have.
"Please don't leave me," I whisper in his ear.
"Never."