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A Goodbye Gone (a short story)

Some people are lost, while others feel lost. They have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. They're constantly moving but they are never going anywhere. I was like that, I am like that. I'm cold and abandoned. I am a snowflake during a winter blizzard. I am there but I am not needed. There are countless other snowflakes that could take the place of one small, measly flake. One that doesn't know what to do. Lost. Alone. Who will miss one tiny flake? No one. It can be forgotten. I can slowly feel myself being replaced by another.
Was there even a place for me in this big city? A simple small town girl, who compares herself to a stupid snowflake. An outsider to this world. A young girl who finds comfort in the quietness of the shadows of abandoned streets and alley ways. Loud noises of nothingness, except the dull shuffles of feet searching for something near by. Wrong place, wrong time, is something that people say. That is what described this moment, but I didn't know that. The pitter patting of my tiny feet carried me towards the sound. To a slouched figure rustling against the dampness of the wall. My hand, cut and sweating, reached towards the figure in a form of comfort. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. A simple flick of a wrist from the man and a jolt from me was all that happened. A glimpse of shiny steel was all that was seen for a second. A dismantle pain was left in the lower half of my body. The crimson colour stained the little of what's left of my shirt. The snowflake fell.
But snowflakes can't bleed. They can't feel the dark liquid flow from their veins and onto pricked skin. The metallic taste thick on their tongues as they try to scream. As I try to scream. I scream for those who aren't heard. For those quiet voices trying to be heard in the dark. Like stars hiding behind clouds, they are shining, but not seen or heard by the world they are surrounding. I'm screaming till my last breath is drawn from my torn and damaged lungs. Waiting till I feel like a ship sailing out to the open sea, buoyant and weightless. Blood flows from my body. A beautiful mess swirling and flowing, making a final piece of art work. The coldness engulfs me like a welcoming blanket, awaiting for my departure. Waiting for my final moment.
The last shallow breath that was not meant to be taken in a place where the light doesn't shine. A place where no one wants to be at their time of death. They want a hand to hold; a person to see them through till the end. I have no hand to hold; No one to watch me as I go. I have only a dark building beside me and the sound of footsteps running away. The echoing of the blasts have dimmed to a faint lulling sound. How I got here I will never understand. My life taken by another. All because of a touch. A touch that startled. A touch that pulled a simple trigger. Left for dead in a dark place of grim and devastation. The darkness swallows me.