What do you do when you have nothing else to lose?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Daisy is a mother out for revenge. What will she do once she realizes she has nothing else to lose?

Submitted: July 22, 2012

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Submitted: July 22, 2012

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What do you do when you have nothing left to lose?
Absolutely everything.

The sky was a mixture of purple, blues, and blacks. It would've been pretty had the earth's surface not have warm blood splatter across it. She wiped her face, smearing the warm droplets. She dropped her gun and grabbed another that was easily within reach. Her body straightened and she grabbed two bobby pins out of a skin-tight pocket. She pinned her blond hair into a bun and out of her face. She whispered to herself, "Get it together, Daise." Feet flew across the ground as she darted around the facility. Daisy's smiling daughter popped into her mind. She couldn't help but smile.

She hummed a soft little reggae tune as she cocked her gun. "For you, baby." She whispered and stepped down a hallway. Silence swallowed her whole as her body glided down the hall. She stopped at a corner and attached her silencing piece. Then, she took a deep breath and turned the corner.

Two slightly silent shots rang out. She grabbed their guns and replaced them in her own holsters. She grasped the door handle, closed her eyes, said a prayer and flung open the on barrier between her and an army of people she must succeed in murdering.

A little while later, she was down another hallway, leaving a skinny trail of blood behind her, dripping from her right side. Disheveled hair, a forming black eye, and the taste of blood in her mouth only fueled her hatred. She must find Matthew.

Nearly an hour of finding one miniature army after another, two more gun shot wounds, an eye swollen shut, a cut on her face nearly showing her jaw bone, and two teeth lost; she had finally found his office. No doubt filled with his best men. Again, what did she have to lose?

She dropped her guns and grabbed her last two firing weapons. Daisy opened the door and prepared to face her demons. Yet, there was only one. Matthew.

"Hello, my darling Daisy."

She scowled. Fire burned in her eyes, but ice filled her veins, paralyzing her on the spot.

"It's rude to come to someone's workplace and not speak to them." He barked.

"Hello, Matthew." She finally spoke.

Her trigger finger didn't itch. Her heart didn't soften, but she couldn't kill him. Not yet.

"Would you like some te-"

"How could you kill her?" Daisy interrupted.

His chin lifted slightly as he turned his gaze from the tea to stare into her eyes.

"You always did have stunning green eyes, Daisy. Like emeralds in the flesh." He stated, ignoring her question.

"Why?" She repeated, firmer, this time.

"I found her to be a terrible bore." He chuckled, "I'm joking. I knew it would be the worst possible way to hurt you, so I did. Easier than manual torture."

Daisy had to hold back a sob. "You bastard!"

He chuckled. A smile danced around his lips. Then, she noticed his hand in his lap. The other rested against his chin in a leisurely way.

He pulled his hand from under the desk and pointed a gun at her. "Drop both of your weapons. Now." He demanded.

She just smiled, her emerald eyes flashing. He held his gun high as he stood. She didn't move an inch. Matthew walked towards her, buttoning his tailored suit with one hand, something most business men master quickly. Her trigger finger twitched slightly as he stood barely a foot in front of her.

"Daisy, darling, why must you keep pestering me?" He kissed her lips. She didn't move. With that one act, she slowly lifted her gun and placed the barrel next to his temple. "Don't ever touch me again." She said. He laughed.

"I won't, darling." And, just as her finger began to put the slightest bit of pressure on her trigger, his gun flew to her cheek. A shot rang out and Daisy collapsed onto the floor. He snatched her guns and crouched over her body. With the shot being angled, it went through her jaw and nicked her throat, barely missing a major artery.

Blood filled her lungs, pouring in from her throat, as she tried to breathe. "Y-y-you fu-ucking bast-t-tard." She gargled, blood making her words warm and wet. Daisy suddenly realized how tight her skin suit was. She was aware how wisps of hair were touching her neck, eyes, and ears. She was aware of the gentle throbbing in her arm, face, and stomach. She could feel gravity pulling her closer to mother earth, and the air around her crushing her body.

"Daisy," Matthew whispered as he smacked her cheek. "Pay attention." She let out a quiet moan. Pain was prickling her every cell, making her vision dance with black. A gunshot wound in her side, arm, throat and face didn't leave much room for survival. She knew that. Especially since Daisy knew that Matthew wasn't the type to leave loose ends.

"I, as the man I am, do not give a lovely mother fuck about my daughter dying. I don't care about closest friends bleeding in the hallway there. I don't ever care that I murdered my own parents and almost my entire family. I do not give a fuck about shooting you in the fucking face. You will die. With that fucking child of ours." Daisy felt tears finally stinging her cheek wound.

Matthew, not caring about guns anymore, reached around for his wallet. He pulled out a picture of a darling little girl with chipmunk cheeks, emerald green eyes, and his dusty blonde curls. "See her? I shot her. I watched blood pour from her chest. I watched her tears fall. I watched the life leave her eyes. Just like I'm about to watch yours."

With those words, he placed the picture on her chest, moved her gun to her temple, and smiled. "It's been fun, love." He pulled the trigger.

The last thing going through her mind was, "Why didn't I kill him first?"

As if he had read her mind that second before, over her dead body, he closed her eyes and kissed her dead lips. "Love." He whispered against her hair. With that, Matthew tossed his weapons down, picked his picture back up and tucked it into his wallet. He took his leave.


© Copyright 2017 SallySue. All rights reserved.

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