The girl of his dreams stood topless, hands pressed to her belly as her blood poured out all over the place, and Jon was stunned to the point of incapacitation. He had never dreamed things would turn out this way. Julie was breathtaking, the very definition of beauty incarnate, and he absolutely adored her. He would have died for her, he would have killed for her, he would have done anything for her. But that all changed this morning, when she ripped his heart out of his chest and wiped her ass with it.
Well, now Julie was shot, and there was so much blood. Christ, there was so much fucking blood. Who would have known that she'd have so much fucking blood in her.
As he watched this atrocity of his own creation, Julie staggered over to him, bleeding like a stuck pig. Standing close enough to touch, Julie and Jon looked at each other, each of them rendered speechless by shock, Julie clutching herself and Jon clutching his father's .45 magnum. Instead of speaking, a trembling, bloody hand reached out and clamped down on Jon's shoulder, and terrified and accusing eyes bore into his cold, dark brown ones. Julie's grip was frighteningly powerful, and for a moment Jon was intimidated by the taller, desperate and dying girl. Then he snapped out of his trance, and into action.
You have to die, you bitch, he said to himself. It was only right that she should die, as Jon's life was now over, thanks to this heartless cunt. If she survived it would mean she got the best of him, and for once in his life Jon was not going to be the butt of someone's joke. He would not be left holding the short end of this stick. Julie would pay, and her toll would be far dearer than Jon's, of that he would be certain. He pressed the barrel of the gun to the side of her midsection and fired. He saw the spray of blood and gore as the round punched through her body and made it's way out her other end.
"Hmmmph," Julie grunted primly. Her grip weakened; her strength was failing. Jon repositioned the gun, again pressing the barrel into her soft belly, and fired a fifth shot. With that Julie's grip loosened significantly, her jaw dropped, and her eyes grew as big as saucers. She looked once again at her ruined midsection, then back at Jon, and smiled wryly. It was the smile of a lunatic, pushed past the breaking point. Jon recognized his own madness in that smile, and grinned right back at her.
But Julie's smile faded as quickly as it appeared, and she looked past Jon to the stairs leading out of the locker room. Brushing past him, as if he no longer existed, Julie stumbled to the stairs, and very slowly, very methodically, began to climb them. Jon watched her for a bit, but she was of little concern now. He had laid waste to both her kidneys and done irreparable damage to her liver. She would not be long for this world.
There was only one thing left for Jon to do. He wrapped his lips around the business end of his father's .45 revolver, and blew his brains out the back of his head.
Julie emerged on the basketball court, the same court she had owned for most of her high school career, a bloody mess. She looked around and saw some girls gawking at her, as though she was some sort of abomination in a Wes Craven horror flick.
Who are these people? Julie wondered. Do they know me? Then she recognized Monica's pretty face, and realized they were her teammates. "Monica," she said, "I've been shot," as if the gushing holes in her bare midriff didn't already give that away. "I think I'm dying." Am I dying? she wondered. Can I really be dying? Is it possible?
Most of her team had fled the building, but Erika, Monica, and a few others had lingered, along with Coach Martinez. Monica just looked at her, dumbfounded, but Erika and Coach Martinez rushed to her side.
Julie smiled at Erika with heart-breaking sadness. "He shot me, Boobers." Erika had earned the nickname due to her 37 D chest, which developed well ahead of the rest of her class. "Look what he did to me."
Smiling back at her friend, Erika said softly, "I know, Jules."
Julie's smile turned into a grimace as she puked up a mouthful of blood. "Do you think I'm dying?"
"No, Julie, you'll be fine, just hang on. Fight it."
Julie swiped blood from her lips with the back of her hand. "Right, okay. I'll be fine." She certainly didn't feel fine. She felt weak, woozy, light headed, and incredibly nervous. A metallic taste filled her mouth, and her legs became wobbly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, you motherfucker, just hang on."
"I don't feel so good." Julie fell to her knees, nearly pulling Erika and her coach down with her.
"Julie!" Erika screamed.
Julie looked at Erika with wide, confused eyes, as she slowly fell back on her shoulders.
"Julie, stay with me."
"Oooooo, fuck, it fucking burns."
"I know, Julie, just fight it."
"Okay, I'll be okay. I just need to catch my breath." Julie's respiration was becoming increasingly erratic, and beads of sweat broke out all over her flesh. "Can you get my mom?"
"Your mom's not here right now, Jules."
"Okay, it's okay. I'm gonna be fine." Julie was panting audibly, and a terrible knot of anxiety was building inside of her. "I'll be okay. I'm... Ima be okay." Julie rolled back and forth on her back, clutching her belly.
"That's right, Jules, you just keep fighting. Help is on the way."
As if the thought had just now occured to her, Coach Martinez looked at the few girls still lingering in the gym, and asked if any of them had called 9-1-1. Their blank expressions indicated no one had, and Coach shouted at them to get on it.
"Grrrrrrr, fuck!" Julie grunted, trying to sit up as her breath came in loud pants. She was fighting, but she felt like she was losing.
"Easy, Jules, try to relax."
"I'm... I... Ima" I'm dying, she told herself. No!, her mind fired back. She couldn't die, she just couldn't. Julie grabbed Erika's blouse, and pulled her close. She tried to talk, but her mouth filled up with blood and red streams spilled from the corners of her lips. Julie turned her head and spat crimson, then tried again. "I'm not gonna make it, Boobs."
"Don't fucking say that shit, goddamit!"
Julie released her friend's shirt and fell back to the floor. Erika didn't get it. How could she? Julie was alone on this. She would die alone and the rest of the world would go on without her, as unfathomable as that might seem. That knot in her guts gave way to sheer, outright panic, and Julie's mind slipped a little. Her bladder let go, spewing urine down her thighs, but that didn't matter. Her jeans were already soaked with blood anyway.
"I'm thirsty. I'm thirsty, Erika."
"Okay, Jules, just relax."
"I need a glass of water. I'll be okay, I just need a glass of water."
"Okay, we'll get you some water, just hang on."
It was obviously a lie, but Julie didn't notice. She had already forgotten about the glass of water. She was once again wondering how the world could continue without her. Was it even possible? She needed her mom. Her mom would make everything alright.
"Guh, I wanna go home. I want my mommy." Julie hadn't referred to her maternal relation as 'mommy' for over eight years, but lying on the floor of the gymnasium in a pool of her own blood, the term came back to her like an old friend.
"Your mom's coming, Jules."
Erika was crying now. That's odd, Julie thought to herself. She's not the one dying. Her fingers and toes felt like ice, and her vision was getting spotty. This is it, she thought. No, not yet, goddammit! the survivor in her argued back. Her survival instinct was strong, but she knew the score. Her mommy wasn't coming, her glass of water wasn't coming, nobody was coming. She was dying, and nothing could stop that now. Maybe I should have been a bit more sincere in my apology. Julie thought. No, better yet, maybe I should have just called the fucker. Could have, should have, would have. There would be no second chances for poor Julie. There was no reset button, no extra lives like in Mario. Her game was over, forever.
Her breaths were jagged and thin, her heart winding down, thumping sporadically, and Julie's eyes bulged in their sockets. These were her final few seconds of life. This was it, and there was nothing more. The survivor in her made one final plea. "Ohmuhgawd... Erika... help.... mmmm..."
Julie laid back, her beautiful blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, her mouth agape with indescribable terror, and she was no more.
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