Julie was dumbfounded. What had she done? What could she have possibly done that would warrant three rounds from a .357 magnum in her guts? Her emotions welled up inside her and for just a moment she forgot about maintaining her composure. "Do this to you?!" Julie cried out, blood flying from her lips. "You fucking shot me! I'm fucking dying!"
BLAM! Jon cut off her rant by firing another round into her naked torso. The bullet slammed into her perky right breast, knocking her backwards. She slapped her arms out against the lockers, preventing herseslf from toppling completely off the bench. "Uurrrp!" she cried, looking nervously at her latest gun shot wound. She pushed herself back into a sitting position.
"It's always all about you, isn't it Julie?!" Jon shouted at her. "You fucking cunt! You don't care about anyone but yourself. Nobody does."
"Jon please," but that was as far as she got. Jon shot her again, punching a hole in her just under her right rib cage. The hot lead pummeled what was left of her liver and tore its way out her back.
Julie groaned, struggling to remain upright, but her strength was leaving her and she slipped off the bench and fell to the floor. It didn't appear she would be talking her way out of this one. She began to drag her wounded body across the locker room floor, away from Jon, and when she reached the edge of the showers she grasped the end of the wall bordering them and slowly pulled herself up to a standing position. Leaning against the wall, struggling to breathe with one punctured lung and massive blood loss, Julie was shot for the sixth time that day.
The slug went in the right side of her rib cage, near the back, and exited the left side near the front. Its path of destruction lie just beneath her heart, sparing her at least a few more minutes of tormented life.
She squawked in pain and fell to the shower floor. She pulled herself up against the far wall and examined her multiple gun shot wounds. She looked at the streaks of blood leading back to her locker, the splatters on the wall, the blood still squirting out of her body, the pools of it on the shower floor. Then she looked at Jon, who had followed her into the shower, and wondered how much time she had left.
Shot six times with a .357 magnum, when one shot was supposed to do the trick. "Jesus Jon," she said. "You really got me good." She tried to remain light-hearted and calm, ignoring the fact that her impending doom was creeping ever closer with each passing second. "You still wanna go on that date with me?" Julie forced a sad smile.
"Why'd you tear up that note, Julie?" Jon asked, choking back tears.
So that's what this is all about, Julie thought to herself. He saw me rip up his stupid fucking note. Oh God, why did I tear up that note? Why did he give me that note in the first place? Fuck, it was all just so fucked up. "I don't know," she said. It was the truth. She wasn't really sure of anything any more. "What do you think happens when you die?"
Jon shrugged, beginning to cry now.
A violent coughing spell brought splatters of blood from Julie’s perfect lips, but she didn’t care. She simply wiped absent-mindedly at her mouth with the back of her hand, and continued to ponder the only mystery that held any meaning for her anymore. “I’m scared,” she said plainly.
“I’m sorry, Julie,” Jon said. Tears were streaming freely down his cheeks.
Julie smiled, “Cheer up, you’re not the one dying.”
“Maybe you’ll go to heaven,” Jon told her, rather unconvincingly.
“Maybe,” Julie agreed, “but I’m pretty nervous. What if heaven’s not real? Or worse, what if I go to hell? I did tear up your note.”
“I guess that wasn’t such a big deal.”
Julie grimaced at this. “Then why’d you shoot me?”
“I don’t know, Julie. I love you.”
"Fuck, Jon," was all she said. Those were her last words. She took one final breath and died, her beautiful blue eyes staring emptily off into eternity.
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