Shadow's Within

13 : Mom's bleeding!

"MOM!!!!" I cry out in pain, watching mom spasm on the floor, clutching her abdominal area covered in blood.

I quickly ran to her, checking the wound. Blood's gushing out, oozing thick crimson liquid on her clothes to the floor.

"Anni.." she said, her voice barely audible, coughing up blood.

"It's okay mom, don't talk. I'm here"

Carefully I thread my arms around her abdomen not wanting to create any more opening in the bullet hole. Blood is thickening by the second. What can I do, I'm not fundamentally great in reducing the time of death.

I zip my fingers and rip apart the sleeve of my shirt, pressing the clothes on top of the wound. The blood's is overflowing. I apply some pressure to the cloth hoping it would buy her some times.

A laughter tenderizing my ear. I look behind and see the female reaper bursting in amusement. Her face knocking overjoy shredding tears of laughter in this horrific comedic show.

My hatred fumes in rage seeing a person could mock a tragedy happening straight to their face. She's no person, she's not even an animal. That kind of attitude is befitting for a demon dwelling in the depths of hell.

She sneers. "Don't you just love a beautiful drama..."

"CUT THE BULL-!" I snapped.

"Tch, tch, tch" she holds up her fingers. "Language please! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth.." she continues laughing.

A pessimistic catastrophe, and her sarcastic comment is getting on my nerve.

"You're going to pay for this.." I said slowly, controlling my anger.

She rolls her eyes. "Uw, I'm so scared." Her voice threatening joyful sin. "Look here, the only one who is going to pay for this wretched mess is you alone, agent 27. None of this would be happening if you just do your JOB!" she shouted.

"Why do people always presume to create the animalistic blame onto the doers. Don't they ever stop to think that maybe.. just maybe it's their own fault to begin with. People are just egoistic side effects to their pride. Nobody wants to take the blame. It's just easier blaming the fault to others. This is why I hate people. A sad excuse of people living in a non-discreet society, shadowing and masking themselves as the perfect superficial being. Just a sad excuse to escape their own pitiful lives."

"Tell me agent 27, are you one of those people who are so imprudent of their own masculinity that they forget of their own sanity. This are not wise people, agent 27, this are ill-temperament persona, not dreading for a future for themselves, but standing behind a mask, fatuous believing in a lie feed to them through the eyes of the numerical and cardinal of a screen projecting the depths of cinema and entertainment."

I stand there, forming her entire predicament of a statement.

Her guns clicking, readying on point for the action she's about to make, ending my life. I didn't know what else to choose. My own choice is crashing down on me painlessly through my own thought.

THINK ANNIE THINK! YOU CANNOT LET THIS CRACKED HEAD KILL YOU

I scan the surrounding, nothing to my right or left. My entire rear is constricted by bricks of wall protruding of endless frame of pictures of my childhood. My arms feel numb from this whole calamity. I'm sick of running away. Nowhere can I run to escape my eminent punishment.

I drop down to one knee, catching my breath, reaching down on my lungs for the air my body needs. My hands clutch randomly down the floor for the bearings I need.

The reaper whips his head downwards, pitiful guise in her eyes. She torches her gun spitefully beside me just to get the thrill of watching me suffer. The sudden shot shock me to pieces. My heart literally drops for a second. Sweats touching my lips pouring down. Every action I could think of leads me to a hesitant stare. What can I do to escape this catastrophe?

Suddenly the surge of adrenalin kicks me into gear. I couldn't give up. My hearts pounding fast as stead. I reach down, touching and stirring my hands in an endless cycle hoping for a miracle to touch me in a time of need.

Then for a brief moment, god answers my prayers.

THIS IS IT!

A two by four contraption with a handle and a steel landing. An ironing lever. It's perfect. I can use this. A simple blow would render the reaper unconscious or maybe worse.

She looks amuse, taking her time with her prey.

"Are you ready my sweet Annie?" she asks.

I hold my stagnant eyes. "For what?"

"To die of course!"

She ran her feet to me, causing me to leap back a feet inch backwards. Her arms roll over to knock me down with her gun. I didn't allow her agile movement to keep me faltered. I redirect my body to escape her velocity, carefully not exposing the lever in my arms.

I steady myself, immobilize my right arms clutching the lever. She jumps exuberantly, trying to knock me off guard, before finally releasing the bullet of its shell. I manage to escape the bullet leaving only a stretching graze on my left thigh.

The mark hurts! Damn it! I forgot the thrilling pain a gun could do to you. The pain I need to stay clear of my head, removing any memory of discomfort.

I get back on my feet.

"Very impressive agent 27" she said. "Those data are not lying about you"

She didn't give me any room to breathe. Her movement keeps raining down on me. Tethering her swift upper limb to knock me out. She fires out a third shot, this time it flies by me, escaping me by a quarter inch. Thank god.

The shot gives me an opportunity. I see my window of opportunity, just above her left shoulder, an expose area. I grab hold of the ironing lever, with a mighty swing, I knock the reaper head right on, crushing her head upon impact.

The sound of steel touching the soft skin of the reaper strikes me as a touchdown victory. The impact knocks her over by the adjoining wall, causing her body to flip and summersault into an awkward landing forcefully into the wall.

I did it!