This is a forgotten little short story I wrote after I played Last of Us 2 when it first came out.
The drastic sound of gunfire ripped the air of the dark room into two as the bullet drilled through the man's chest. Blood bloomed like a red rose from the wound as he fell. The next moment the woman was running away, stark red dripping down from her pants in the pitch-black corridor. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Running from the crazed woman chasing after her wielding the gun. Running from the gruesome sight of the man's life being snuffed so quickly and brutally before her eyes. Running from the human form of death itself.
"Come back here! Tell me where she is! You're not getting away with what you did!" The screeching killer chased after the woman sprinting through the darkness, echoing off the hollow walls of the shifting corridor.
But the woman did not answer her questions. All she did was scream at the top of her lungs, praying aloud to her Lord and savior to save her, hoping that he would hear her pleas. "Please dear God, please Dear Lord,…please…help me…"
No one answered her prayers, all she received was the thunderous pounding of her pursuer's approaching footsteps. Then came the piercing sound of the second bullet spearing through her side.
The woman let out a strange noise that sounded like the mixture of a shriek and a moan as she manages to hurl herself into an closet.
The killer kicked the door open, and her eyes widened in horror when she saw the blood seeping from the side of her bulging stomach. The bloodied woman laid screaming in an odd position; flat on her back, pants torn down, her legs spread eagle, her face twisted in horror and pain. The killer groaned when she watched the woman's furious blood gushing out of her system, draining her. She squirmed and flailed like a dying fish in her own growing pool of blood.
A bloodcurdling scream refrained through the air that illustrated the great agony inflicted on her. The killer froze as the long-winded screaming began to penetrate through her eardrums like white-hot knives, her entire body left writhing terribly.
The killer felt so sick, dizzy. The gun flew to the floor with a clatter. Her vision began to blur into dimness. Death. Dying. Decay. Everywhere. She could smell it, she could see it.
The woman is bleeding out, the woman is dying, yet the woman was screaming for a completely different reason that left the killer frozen in astonishment.
Then it happened and the woman's screaming faded into nothingness.
The killer felt weak, awfully weak with a sudden pain washed over her, no longer that throbbing rage that once consumed her mind and heart, but now a broad, deep ache that threatened to drag her under once and for all. A bottomless sea of blackness closing over her head, blinding her into darkness, drowning her slowly, strangling the breath from her lungs.
From a far distance, she heard an echo of the fresh wailing burning into her heart.