I guess you could call it ‘Done’ if you really need a title.
It blocked her mind, shattering her existence. Just one look, and hopelessness consumed her. A shadow, a premonition, appearing in the alley leading to her home.
Cry? Run? Die? Done?
She stepped backwards, refusing to accept her fate. The soft shadow behind her shifted, once again distorting her attackers true image. The shape of a weapon, a gun, was silhouetted clearly, keeping her mind in a constant state of panic. Her body, hidden in this shadow, slid against a hard surface. A wall.
The sound of steps approaching, her heart thumping.
The sound of steps passing, her heart stopping.
Downward she fell, her body collapsing beneath her, perfectly prone. No sobs, just a wide-eyed stare and a silent stream of doleful acceptance. The shadow, closer now, was shifting at a faster and faster pace, spreading a semiconscious sense of awareness.
Too soon, a click.
She jerked, adrenaline rushing. No. No, she could feel her limbs, command them to move, and so she would.
She rose, suddenly shifting along the wall. Left, left. The shadow extended its arm, following her. She froze. A sound, any sound. There was the slight creak of metal against metal, and right, running against the wall again, a crack as metal collided with brick.
The shadow cursed, turned to its left and fell. Adrenaline pumped through her, causing sirens to erupt in her ears. A light. The landlord was home. Running, running. Another shot, silenced, hit her arm.
She screamed, sirens, and pain all around. Suddenly, there was a brighter light, and she was at the end of the alley, safety.
and nothing. Light became a permanent night, and the sirens squealed to an abrupt stop.
A dented ambulance
. a body
no shadow
no gun
. having cried
. having run
.having died
.
Done
