D9 Riots: Merchants Row
Jan 17, 2020 10:47:16 GMT -5
Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Jan 17, 2020 10:47:16 GMT -5
L E N A M A R T I N
We are going to kill each other.
He shoots me, but I’m deaf to it, the combined sounds of our guns going off so close deafening me to anything but the sound of silence. It rings in my ears, rings and rings and rings and I have to stumble back, choking on it. I think I might have screamed again, but I’m honestly not sure. I couldn’t hear it.
I changed the rules. I know that I did. I brought a gun to the knife fight, turned it into an exchange of bullets instead of knives, I know. I did this. I brought this upon myself.
I changed the rules.
I regret it.
I don’t want to beg, but he’s going to kill me. I guess that means it shouldn’t matter, that I shouldn’t care because I won’t be alive to see if anyway, but I can’t imagine being parted from this blade even in death—worse, can’t imagine it being used to hurt innocents. It was Mama’s, Dad had said when he laid it in my hands. I gave it to her when I asked her to marry me.
“It was my mother’s,” I say, through the pain, through the blood coating my tongue. When did that get there? I wonder, mouth like iron. I will my words to be as strong. “Use it well,” I say, stumbling back. She didn’t need a ring, marrying me; she needed a weapon. I raise my gun for what I’m sure is the last time. He’ll probably take my gun, too, slit my throat with my mother’s blade. That’s okay. “Protect people,” I say. I swallow. It’s iron. “Protect the people.”
And I fire, falling to my knees.
lena attacks art, gun
T|yyB3HpLZ1-50
+6, locations up to mr bird
( 24 / 25 )
T|yyB3HpLZ1-50
+6, locations up to mr bird
( 24 / 25 )
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