Husband

Ch.14, PATH B: Bridge

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[WARNING/TRIGGER WARNING (TW)]: This chapter contains descriptions of blood, violence, gore, discrimination, slurs, disturbing and dark themes in general. I do not condone any of it.

The antagonist (the 'yandere') is supposed to be unsettling and immoral (abusive), I do not condone his ways.

This is Horror, not romance.

This book is purely a work of fiction and is not to be emulated in real life. Nor does it encourage others to be like the characters in this book.
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No, it's too risky. The chance of losing her life is too high, and the chance of Husband exploiting the limitations of the HHA is even worse. The Medic let out a dry sob before shuddering, attempting to expel the dread that's been pooling in her stomach.

She couldn't overdo it though, as she might just vomit due to the tremendous stress and pressure placed on her shoulders. The medic gulped and shook her head, she needs to act now or else Husband would get away... having the last laugh.

She stood up and readied her shotgun, gritting her teeth in the process and blinking useless tears that are only blurring her deteriorating vision.

She aimed the barrel of her weapon at Husband's fleeing form.

She hissed nasty curses as she struggled to focus. He's too far away and her eyes are slowly failing her, it's quite difficult to aim with numerous, sharp, tiny, shards of debris wedged in between your optics.

"I could really use a bottle fuckin' eye drops now." She bitterly mumbled to herself and applied the much needed pressure on the trigger.

BANG!

It launches the small, but deadly metal demon from it's barrel with vigor. She shut her eyes and prayed for the best, praying the hedonistic gods would somehow spare her some selfless hedonism.

CRASH!

No. That doesn't sound like a bullet entering a thick layer of flesh and bones. It's too hard, malleable and metallic to sound like that. It must have hit something other than Husband or you!

"Shit me!" She half shrieked when she realizes that the bullet grazed Husband's arm, ripping his sleeve and giving him a gash in the process. But other than that, nothing too critical or fatal. He gasped and winced in pain, but him being the veteran hedonist he is, he recovered within a blink of an eye.

The Medic began pulling on the trigger again, no time to callibrate herself to deliver quality blows. She just hopes that one bullet would drive itself into Husband's skull and end his needless tyranny once and for all.

She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the strange pricking sensation under her eyelids.

BANG!

BANG!

...she never fired a second bullet.

"Agh!" She howled in pain before toppling over, gripping the left side of her chest. Red seep its way through her attire and the small gaps between her fingers. The Medic felt the worst pain she felt in her life, the metal seared through her exposed flesh and sent shocks of excruciating agony through her being.

The last thing she saw before having her vision obscured by the lower part of the window was a demented Husband, pointing a handgun at her with wisps of smoke coming out from it's barrel. He was holding you with such possessiveness and desperation, she wondered if you're still breathing or not with his spine-breaking grip on your body.

That shot ate up all her energy to continue on. Hell, she can barely keep her eyes open now as she lays on the church's floor in a pathetic, fetal position.

Before the world around her darkens, he mumbled one last thing.

"Fuckin' Krauts."