Hell's Kitchen, 2 AM.
Darkness all around. Both feet in the air. Struggling for the feeling of impact, of her feet connecting with something - anything. A feeling that never comes. Panic clouds her thoughts, as she gasps for breath. It's just that much harder to breathe when a contracted killer has his hands around your neck.
Her throat burns, as warm scarlet drops slowly start to trickle down. Burning pain wards off thoughts. Her limbs fail to obey commands, and unbidden tears spring to her eyes. A flash of steel, a weapon turned against its master. She sees the blade impale her, before she feels it.
Overwhelming pain registers only a few moments later, but it takes the killer 8 seconds to drive the weapon all the way through her abdomen. A new wave of pain is all she is aware of, and a second later - flashes of movement. Her brain doesn't register the concrete getting closer and closer until she hits it head-first.
Darkness, then suddenly...
Police searchlights turn night into day, and make her head pound with confusion. The feeling of liquid pooled on the concrete beneath her sinks in seconds before the sharp, piercing pain does. The wound in her abdomen grows warmer.
Agony gains a new meaning. She feels the warm blood leave her body and the hurt is like nothing she's ever felt before, but the only thought running through her head is that she must get to him. If she just reaches him, then she'll be okay. She tries not to think about the alternative.
The seconds feel like hours, and she is agonizingly aware of her surroundings. She focuses on analyzing every detail of the concrete in front of her and on the sound the police sirens make as they get closer and closer. These things provide distractions from the excruciating pain that never ends, and the fact that everything she sees is slow shifting in and out of focus.
It takes her another minute to reach him, and the thick scarlet line from one end of the rooftop to the other is evidence of her progress. She collapses, and pleading green orbs look up to meet sightless blue, as panic, fear, and pain merge to form words.
"Help me," she whimpers.
It starts with the corners of her visions going blurry, right before she realizes that somewhere along the way she stopped hearing the sirens. Things start to lose focus slowly, until she can barely feel his fingers stroking her hair or the blood turning the concrete scarlet.
Stay with me, she hears him say - as if from far away - and as her heartbeat slows she feels the life leave her body. She wishes she could reassure him.
She'll be okay now. She's not so sure about him.