Author's Note: Woohoo! First Outlast fic!

Disclaimer: WARNING! SPOILERS FOR THE GAME'S ENDING! Also, swearing. Lots of it.


Damn. That hurt.

I'm laying on the floor of the underground lab of this God forsaken asylum. I just killed Billy, and was attacked by the Walrider. It hurt like a bitch, but the fucker's gone and, well, if I'm honest, it wasn't the most painful thing that I had to endure tonight. I try to stand shakily as my vision blurs momentarily and I feel the world sway.

Come on, Upshur, you can do this.

I try to walk towards the double doors leading away from this fucking lab, but only manage a few steps before I'm on the floor again using my mutilated hands to break my fall. Fuck, that hurt. I try to get up again, this time successfully walking a few yards before falling again. This is bull shit; I can finally leave this place and all of a sudden I don't have the energy to do so. Jesus, Upshur, get it together. The doors out of this place are right there. All you have to do is get through those doors and to Wernicke and he can take it from there. I stand up again, finalizing my resolve, and head for the doors straight in front of me. I'm almost there, I can practically taste freedom, I can almost-

What?

The most innocent, feeble, and confused thought runs through my head as the double doors open of their own devices to reveal a firing squad accompanied by Dr. Wernicke. I stop walking. Why the hell would they be here? What is Dr. Wernicke doing with them? I hear a loud bang.

Shit.

There is a sharp pain in my chest and I realize that they shot me. I inhale sharply as the shock sets in, right along side more and more bullets. Before I know it, my chest is riddled with holes and a shitload of bullets. I cough and fall to the ground; I can already feel the sticky warmth of my own blood oozing out of my chest.

I'm dying. That's all that I can think as my chest heaves and I gasp for air.

Holy shit, I'm dying.

I am vaguely aware of the screams of the SWAT members as I choke on the blood currently filling my punctured lungs. Shit, this fucking hurts and have I had one hell of a day. Getting drugged by some batshit crazy inmate, thrown out of a window, falling through the floor, multiple times I might add, getting MY FUCKING FINGERS CUT OFF, chased by one fat ass mother fucker, attacked by some ghost, having to kill some poor son of a bitch. Damn. And I just wanted a good story.

A sharp pang of pain pulls me from my thoughts and back to reality. I can't focus on anything but the pain. Jesus, no one ever tells you how painful dying really is. Ha, well I guess it's not like anyone has lived to tell the tale. Wow, here I am bleeding to death and I'm still making shitty jokes. Ha, no one will have to deal with those anymore. Man, there's a lot of stuff people won't have to deal with, hell there's a lot of stuff I won't even be able to do any more. Damn, there was so much I wanted to do before I kicked the bucket.

Dying fucking sucks.

Well, maybe not as badly as having some dick cut your fingers off, or have some dumb ass prick try to rip your head off. At least I don't have to deal with that shit anymore, with any of it, actually. I'm just so fucking tired of it all; I can't get a break. I tried so hard to get out of this hell hole, so many fucking ways. I just want it to end. I want this nightmare to be over. I want to get out of here so fucking badly. I cough on my blood as the world starts to go black and I begin to lose consciousness.

Maybe this was the only way I could escape this hell.

I mean, maybe it's better this way.

Maybe, I can finally rest.


Author's Note: I hope you liked it! Please leave a comment about what you liked, didn't like, etc. Sorry for all of the swearing by the way, I wanted to write it in character which required swearing. Anyway, thanks for reading! See you next time!

P.S. I just love Miles so much; I really felt for him as a character. He had so much bad stuff happen to him it's hard not to feel for him.