Never has she felt so numb... yet still feel so much in her dying life.
Her vision was blurry. The colors black, white, and gray mixing and molding in shapes that are almost impossible for her to comprehend.
The only things clear enough to be comprehensible to her would be the faint color in the eyes of those she shot dead close by, even with a hand that didn't know, could still move and pull the trigger.
She was lucky that she had ran away before the blurriness started to become blindness. She doesn't know where she is exactly, but she guesses it's an alleyway. Why else wouldn't it be? Especially in this god forsaken fuckhole of a city. This cursed city hounded by wild, filthy dogs...
As if she was any different.
No, she is very different compared to a dog. Very different. She'd like to consider herself a cat, or some panther. Some cat.
Seeking to differentiate herself from these disgusting, filthy hounds. She hates dogs.
Not the actual dogs. She meant men.
But she did like a tiny batch of dogs. Only a little bit, of course. She does like the German Shepherds. They were obedient and loyal, and get the job done—she did like playing fetch with those little furry things. Cute little killing machines.
But that's not what she was supposed to think about.
With the wet, rocky ground that she lies on, she didn't need to guess it was an alleyway. Always filled with puddles by the constant rains, but it was probably her blood finally pooling around her.
She couldn't fight nor move anymore. She could try to move her hands, but they're weak, barely any strength left.
It was in a time like this, she was reminded of why she wanted to fight just to live life another day. Even if she had to become a part of the underground of this shit-stained city. Even if she had to turn to contracts. Even if she had to risk everything just to see this damned monochrome hell of a city the next second, alive and well.
She heard and smelt the scent of rain, funny... she didn't smell it earlier. Must be from all this running and gunning, from all this blood.
It was that time of the year, that time, where the unrelenting rain fell from the high heavens above over Sin City. God's tears for a place that bred and bathed in sin and depravity... at least, that's what she thinks that priest she attended to that one time, would say.
Hearing his mouth ramble on and on with all the sweet lies and pitiful half-truths about a religion she cared little for. Before she sees his blue, lying eyes, fade as she stared down at him, at how he was resting in his own pool of sinful blood.
To her, if any God existed, they sure as fuck would never cast a single divine glance on the likes of this city. No, never. This was the devil's domain. It's home. Always was. Always will be.
But that's not what she was focused on, is it? She couldn't focus on anything, really. She was done for, she knew that well when she couldn't bring herself to try, to fight back against the deadly exhaustion she wrought into her body. There's no more life in her to really make her move anymore... she thinks.
How strange... she'd come all this way, high up, just to end up like this. Back in an alleyway, where she began. How ironic.
She was content to let herself go, to stop fighting. To let her thoughts drift and drift until she had none. But something stopped her, somethin' was nagging at her...
Something had stopped her from letting the last remaining consciousness go. What was it...? She can't seem to be able to have enough brain power to really hone in on this nagging, this constant tapping at the back of her dying mind.
In an attempt to stay awake, even if she didn't want to, she gripped the gun in her hand... the gun. The cold metal gun, the gun. The gun...
The gun in her hand... oh.
Oh... that's what was nagging at her, huh? Well, she might have to quit trying then, the gun wasn't hers—and the owner would have it back soon anyway. Bloody, but in great condition. Like always, as she had promised her it would be.
That's what she thought as she continued to blink at the swirls of grays, blacks, and whites of the soft rain drops pouring from the sky, onto her eyes. As she began to hear a faint ringing in her ears, increasing each second.
She caught the glimpse of color from the corner of her eye, someone was here. She tried to watch, to see, even as she drifted in and out from consciousness. She could hear the said person's shoes stomping against the wet ground. They were fast, in a rush, approaching.
Her eyes closed momentarily... before she felt hands applying pressure on her most prominent wound.
It hurt, and she couldn't even make a noise, groan or something. She just couldn't.
"...c'mon... please, stay... stay with me-" she heard, that's what she could hear, as she felt a wet hand begin to shake her face. To shake her awake, to make her stay. Maybe slapped her too, she did feel a slight sting.
She doesn't know.
She knew that voice, though... guess she doesn't have to worry about the guns not getting back to the owner. When the owner was here, trying to keep her awake.
When she finally forced her eyes open, she could see those familiar emerald green eyes, bright against that monochrome of colors. It felt strange, wrong, to see those eyes look so panicked—they were always devious, playful, fierce and crazy... affectionate.
"–STAY AWAKE! C'mon, c'mon... ya-you can't do this to me..." that voice cut through the ringing in her ears and the drops of rain. That voice, was once always so full of that fiery spirit to tease her. Fight her. To challenge her. Now, sounds so... so...
Hm... she's losing... she can't stay up for long. But she contradicts herself. She'll try... try again. To fight, if it's just for her company. If it's for someone, at least.
"...g-gun... here..." It was what she could manage to say, as she tried to give back the gun loosely in her hand. Yet, it only moved an inch before it fell. Her hearing cleared suddenly, if just for a few seconds.
"I DON'T CARE! C'mon! Stay with me!" She felt herself be shook by hands, not gentle, but it did keep her awake again. For a few. She felt hands applying even more pressure.
"Ye can't do this to me, I know you're one tough bitch... c'mon! Just stay awake, help's comin'... it's on the way, just, just-HEY!" She couldn't help but feel concerned for her company, for the gun owner, for her thrill-seeking gambler... for her closest partner.
She already knew her partner had a few screws loose in that wild, creative mind of hers... she doesn't think her partner would bode well with grief.
"Shit... please... I-I can't..." The shaking stopped abruptly, maybe she had let out some noise, or her partner knew she was causing more pain than not.
She would have comforted her partner, in some way, she would have if she wasn't so weak... as she stared and blinked at those green eyes that were full of nothing but desperation and fear for... her.
Those gorgeous, emerald eyes that lit up whenever she came to visit her, that held so much life against the bleakness of this world. Green so stark against the black, white and grays.
And now, she's witnessing this spark, this fiery life... simmer. Beginning to burn... and losing the spark that made it so lively. So fierce... so alive.
She had thought she wasn't that important, that she was not the light that her partner in crime should follow. More so the dark that is like the black colors of this world; sucking the life out of the light, just like everyone else in this damned city.
This partner of hers was too lively, had too much... light. Too much fire. She thought that maybe her partner would fare better without her, would like a better customer to use her finest resources on. To have someone who'd use and abuse her best, most well made firearms. To have someone better.
Huh... maybe she should have known sooner. Or maybe she had known long ago, and just pretended, lied to herself so she couldn't taint something so free and alive.
She did know, they both knew. And it was all her fault, for pushing this away. Pushing everything away when it got too close.
Now here they both are. With her losing her own life, wasting the chance to confess.
Maybe she didn't need to, or maybe she's lying to herself again. She didn't care. She can hear crying. She tried to voice, she forced herself to. "Don't cry..."
If she hated me, she wouldn't have to be here. Crying.
"You... y-you..."
"I... wish we, we never... met..." She muttered, as hard as she could through the haze and rain. "It's my... fault..."
"Fate..."
"I don't give a fuck about fate! You, fuck... you... I-I fucking lo–" She couldn't hear the rest, the ringing in her ears had gotten to the point where it silenced everything.
But she knew.
And she... she hopes she had said something. Anything.
Before she was gone. Never being able to see those emerald green eyes, that smile, ever again.
Fate, or whatever mysterious force, really does love to play people like a die. Tossing and turning them every which way it wants.
She hopes, at the very least, it would be merciful to her companion. To the only person she ever cared for.
...
Hope...
When did she ever believe in that?