I stared into the darkness of my room and sighed. I yawned but before I could close my mouth, a gun barrel was jabbed into my jaw. I looked at the intruder's shadowy figure to see the outline of my uncle, the trigger happy Freeshooter. "Xigbar...Wha-?" he cut me off sharply haha with a knife in my stomache. "Don't make a sound or I'll blow your jaw off" he said pushing the gun deeper into my mouth. He jumped up and pinned me to the bed, gun still lodged in of course. "Your gonna die girl. Your gonna die tonight." he sneered in my ear. I felt another slife in my stomache, deeper this time. I groaned, trying to move. All I could think of was : God please save me. He slowly and gingerly took the knife from my stomache and slid it across my throat. My breathing became gurgly and I began coughing up blood. "Give me what I want, Xaine Shadow." came Xigbar's rasping voice as he sliced were my should be. My pulse thundered in my ears. Thud, thud...thud....thud.........thu. Stop. Black.
Blood was everywhere, the walls, the bed, the floor, the rug. Covered in bright red blood. I tried to move but I couldn't for two reasons. One: I lost too much blood. Two: I was strapped down. I tried to yell but found I had no voice. My breathing was horse and when I tried to speak even whisper, blood poured from my mouth. I opened my eyes again and realized I only had one line of sight. Xigbar has what he wanted, my eye. And now because of his obsession I am going to die. So here I lay, on my deathbed. "It's not your time." I heard a velvety voice say as I was picked up gently and carried off in kind strong arms. I don't care who they are as long as it isn't Xigbar, I thought as I faded again. I was twelve then now I'm twenty-one. Nine Years Later
I walked along the long cracked, unpaved muddy road of Cemetary Drive in the pouring rain. No coat and no umbrella, just me. I stopped at the graveyard and ventured over to a peticular grave. On it bore the name: Xigbar, The Freeshooter 1949-1983 I laid down a sniper and mumbled "Fool, all that trouble for an eye." and left. The wind picked up a bit and blew the hair off the left side of my face to reaveal not an eye but a long white scar. He took his eye back and he nearly killed me. He should be happy, but he wasn't he commited suicide. I walked back home and sat on my couch with some English Black Tea and listened to the -pat, pit-pat, pit-pat. All night untill there was a gunshot. I crept outside to find laying on my porch, the sniper with a note that read: Die a long cold death Love. The Freeshooter. I put the sniper in a case and went to sleep.
The next morning was normal, I thought. I was in the shower washing my hair when I felt the same knife on my throat and gun to my head. Fear rose in me like the hot water pouring over me from the showerhead. "Let's finish what we started." came a cold California-sufer acented voice said. He shoved me on the ground and kicked, stabbed and then click. I felt the lead from the gun pierce my shoulderblade and I screamed. I know he's not going to kill me, he just likes seeing me suffer. There was that stupid, damn click again and this time it was where my left eye should be. I fumbled in my pocket for my small handgun and finally I found it. I pulled it out and shot him right in the throat. As I shot I whispered "Die." and we both collapsed into the sea of blood. Just as we were fading into death I proclaimed "If I die, I'm dragging you down with me."
The End
Blood was everywhere, the walls, the bed, the floor, the rug. Covered in bright red blood. I tried to move but I couldn't for two reasons. One: I lost too much blood. Two: I was strapped down. I tried to yell but found I had no voice. My breathing was horse and when I tried to speak even whisper, blood poured from my mouth. I opened my eyes again and realized I only had one line of sight. Xigbar has what he wanted, my eye. And now because of his obsession I am going to die. So here I lay, on my deathbed. "It's not your time." I heard a velvety voice say as I was picked up gently and carried off in kind strong arms. I don't care who they are as long as it isn't Xigbar, I thought as I faded again. I was twelve then now I'm twenty-one. Nine Years Later
I walked along the long cracked, unpaved muddy road of Cemetary Drive in the pouring rain. No coat and no umbrella, just me. I stopped at the graveyard and ventured over to a peticular grave. On it bore the name: Xigbar, The Freeshooter 1949-1983 I laid down a sniper and mumbled "Fool, all that trouble for an eye." and left. The wind picked up a bit and blew the hair off the left side of my face to reaveal not an eye but a long white scar. He took his eye back and he nearly killed me. He should be happy, but he wasn't he commited suicide. I walked back home and sat on my couch with some English Black Tea and listened to the -pat, pit-pat, pit-pat. All night untill there was a gunshot. I crept outside to find laying on my porch, the sniper with a note that read: Die a long cold death Love. The Freeshooter. I put the sniper in a case and went to sleep.
The next morning was normal, I thought. I was in the shower washing my hair when I felt the same knife on my throat and gun to my head. Fear rose in me like the hot water pouring over me from the showerhead. "Let's finish what we started." came a cold California-sufer acented voice said. He shoved me on the ground and kicked, stabbed and then click. I felt the lead from the gun pierce my shoulderblade and I screamed. I know he's not going to kill me, he just likes seeing me suffer. There was that stupid, damn click again and this time it was where my left eye should be. I fumbled in my pocket for my small handgun and finally I found it. I pulled it out and shot him right in the throat. As I shot I whispered "Die." and we both collapsed into the sea of blood. Just as we were fading into death I proclaimed "If I die, I'm dragging you down with me."
The End