It happens so fast. I'm waiting for it, waiting for pain. For dark. For whatever nothingness is waiting for me at the end of that gun barrel, but it doesn't come. There are voices, one yelling and frantic and the other cold and calm, and I'm just sitting there, blinking wildly and wondering why the fuck I'm not dead.

There's a scuffle, muffled and swift, and then I'm splattered in something warm and wet, and the room's lit up with a brief flicker flash and then... nothing.

The gun clatters to the floor in front of me and I've got enough presence of mind to shuffle back away from it, letting out a choked hiccup of a sound, but that's it. That's all I've got left in me.