First story. Yay.
If I owned Bones... I would not be writing fan fictions right now.
My writing isn't very good I know, my ELA teacher agrees!
It's strange that you can actually feel yourself leaving the earth.
I swear I can feel my heart and every other body part in my body bidding their farewells.
I can hear my mind saying my final words, the words nobody will ever hear. I thought I would never have to hear them.
My ears wince at the sound of a woman screaming. Oh God, is anybody listening to me? Send help. Please. But, I know my last resort attempts for communication are futile.
Why is it I'm shot in the abdomen? The man who shot me doesn't have the strongest capacity for violence. I wonder if he just wanted to see me suffer, but I don't believe it. I've seen the pain on his face when he hits her.
I am relieved; the screaming is not as strong. Not as sickening, not as horrifying. As for me, the blood still seeps through my aged jean jacket.
I feel my body spasm. Blood paints a perfect picture of my agony around my mouth.
The woman begins to scream again. I am instantly aware of who the woman screaming is. My mother. Damnit. I gasp for air. As the air fills my lungs, it burns.
I eyes open. My vision is poor right now. My blurred eyesight fails me; I reach for the gun that is somewhere close to me. My numb fingers miss the handle.
The corner of my eye shows me the nightmare. Her crimson pulsating life blankets her and the ground. Her blood blends in with her vibrant red hair, the hair that matches mine.
She hasn't been stabbed, just cut. I'm not sure if being cut repeatedly is better.
My eyes dart back to the .40 Berretta. I grasp the gun in my right hand. Simultaneously, I pull the trigger. My sweating palms and the fact that I'm holding the gun with one hand affects my shot.
The platinum bullet slams into his thigh.
I hear him scream out in pain.
Is my mother unconscious? Or is she dead? If she hadn't been screaming moments earlier, the blood would have made it obvious she was gone.
He frantically throws the gun square at my forehead. The butt of the gun feels like another bullet as it wedges into my forehead.
I swear I give a faint sigh of relief as I gladly welcome the long-awaited darkness which my body gladly succumbs to.
***HMM… Um, hey? This is my first story? I dunno... I think it's okay. I'm not a very good writer, so bare with me! Comments make me smile. First person to comment gets a donut! ***