A/N: Part of my October Fanfic Fest, or whatever I'm calling it. Just a simple game of GMod Murder...well, a real life version. No respawn. No second chance.
The sound of heavy breathing unnerved me. Somewhere in this mansion was a killer, a murderer, and I was the only one left. I had listened to their screams and shouts, most cut off as the knife pierced easily through their skin, killing them instantly. One body was left in such a gruesome way; his neck forced through some wood, leaving his lifeless body to hang limply. I was crouched down in a small cupboard, everything completely black. Apart from the gun I held in my shaky hands. I don't remember how I got it – I think I picked it up from someone's dead body – and I certainly don't want to use it. But I'll have to. It's the only way. His voice echoed in my mind: 'Eat shit'. The words he shouted at each victim repeatedly, in time with each stab. How did he become this? He was our friend...but I guess having the power to kill changed him. I hold my breath as I hear footsteps. They are getting closer, closer, closer. Each second: louder, louder, louder! Then they stopped. His heavy breathing can be heard on the opposite side of the door. I had caught glimpses of his face as I desperately tried to find somewhere to hide. Blood trails were 'painted' on his skin. One from each victim, and some extra when he was clumsy. I couldn't control my shaking hands, almost dropping the gun. The breathing remained outside the door. Did he know I was here? I did my best to keep silent, closing my eyes. It didn't make any difference – it was just as dark with my eyes open as it were with my eyes closed. I only did it to feel safer. Why it made me feel safe, I have no clue. The footsteps began to leave, and I let out a silent sigh. I opened the door very slightly, being able to see him disappear up the stairs into the attic. I felt so nervous, so afraid. I couldn't go face him – I'd buckle and freeze. I'd be too easy prey. But, even if I prepared myself, could I still kill him? Someone I had trusted for so many years; could I so easily shoot him dead? I had to remind myself – it was him or me.
I slowly stood, my legs aching from crouching. I thought I heard something, instantly retreating back into the cupboard. 'Stop being such a coward, Trott' – that's what Smith would say. Usually. If it weren't life or death. Well, knowing him, he probably would still say it. I couldn't just wait in a cupboard for my death – I doubt I'd have quick enough reactions to shoot him if he opened the door, especially if he was used to using the knife by now. I peeked out again, seeing the breaker switch across the room. Maybe if I turned the lights off I'd have a better chance, even if I would be twice as terrified in the dark. I gulped quietly before forcing my body to move. One step after the other; it was like learning to walk all over again. After what seemed like hours I stood beside the switch, and flicked it off. The lights all turned off simultaneously. I could hear shouts of annoyance from above, quickly and carefully making my way down into the cellar. The front door was locked so there was no point trying to get out. It was a waiting game. Waiting until we were released or one of us died. The latter would come first. More shouting came from above, causing me to shrink back into a corner. I hid beside a cupboard I found, which happened to leave a corner for me to sit against. The heavy breathing returned and I flinched. Closing my eyes instantly, I fumbled slightly with the gun as I held it in a shooting position. Opening my eye a crack, I could see the silhouette of his figure. He wasn't facing me, still fresh blood dripping off of his knife. There was no point in hiding it now, I assumed. He had killed everyone else, so he might as well show it off. Like an award, or trophy. Glancing down at my own weapon, I noticed just how shaky my hands were. If I wasn't using both hands to hold the gun, it would've been on the floor. It took me a few moments to realise that the lights were still off. At least he didn't have much common sense. This was my chance. I slowly rose to my feet, my hands shakily pointing the gun at him. One shot...that's all I have. I didn't have long, trying to steady my hands as much as I could. Just before I fired, I watched him suddenly turn. He caught sight of me, his eyes hollow and his smile twisted.
"Finally...you bastard." Without taking another moment for thought, I fired. I clenched my eyes shut so I had no clue whether he was dead or not. My hands were shaking even more now, releasing my hold on the gun. It clattered to the ground, and I dared to open my eyes. He merely stood, a bullet wound in his chest. He growled deeply, his hand clenched over the wound. "Tch...I guess...this is...it." He murmured, falling onto his knees. I stumbled over to him, kneeling in front of him as my hands clenched around his shoulders.
"N-No...I..." My voice was shaking too much to make a coherent sentence. "You're...n-not going to...die..." I whispered. "I...can s-save you." The madness had faded from his features, the only physical sign left being the blood. He shook his head, his blue eyes meeting with my own. I saw his mouth move, like he was going to say something, but no words left his lips. Instead his body became limp in my arms, the life finally leaving him. I didn't know what to do. Should I cry? Scream? Shout? Rage? Do...nothing? My eyes drifted over to the blood stained weapon on the ground. Why was it so...entrancing?
Whatever happened next, I don't remember. Just...screaming and blood. It felt so warm...