A gunshot in the distance. A shriek in the night.
Sometimes you don’t know what’s going on. Sometimes you don’t know what’s happening. But it’s happening to someone.
Falling. Stone on skin. Pain.
Fire; knives slicing through flesh. Ice splintering through her veins. She gasped; couldn’t get air fast enough. Couldn’t think. Pain. Knife. Fire. Ice.
Somewhere in her leg. Near the hip, maybe. Hard to tell through the pain. Splintering blistering pain. She raised her eyes, slightly, looking for the stars. They looked cold. Far away.
He came into view and blocked the stars; she couldn’t see him in particular, just that he was there - a silhouette, a ghost. A dry sob. She moaned his name.
"I know…", she gasped. Couldn’t finish. Too painful. He didn’t move.
She breathed for a few moments, gasping quickly for the air that was too thin or too thick to be absorbed. Like breathing in space.
"...why..."
Three words were almost too much, if she expected him to hear her. She whispered, breathless:
"Let me help you."
His face, though she couldn’t see it, changed: he raised his hand. She inhaled. She felt the pain before she heard the sound. She let out a choked and brittle scream; it cut off quite quickly to be replaced by dragging, ragged breath.
Tears. Maybe he could see them in the stars he blocked.
"I… love… you…"
She wished. She wished to every star behind him. Let her see his face. Let her even remember him… how he was… before…
A shot in the dark.
This time there was no answer.
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