Holes - Story

The shots rang out, echoing off the walls of the vast alley.

Four figures ran.

One clutching a pistol…

Shaun trembled, his fingers twitching toward his shoulder, the wound open and leaking life. A whimper tumbled forth from his slack mouth, white-hot pain shooting through his veins, burning with its intensity.

His wallet, torn and soiled, lay at his feet. His idenity stolen. Sodden notes sinking and rippling within a circle of muck.

With a ragged exhale, he screwed his eyes shut, shaking fingers pressing into undone skin. An identical wound awaited his touch at his back, causing a cry to stab the air before him. “Shit!… oh, shit! They…they shot me…Christ.” His words sliced at the gathering silence as he moved, clutching his shoulder. Palm pressing heavily against the injury. Preventing blood flow. He hissed through clenched teeth, taking a breath before turning. “Shit…hey, Mike, you okay mate?—” He froze. Eyes wide with sudden panic. Face paling.

Mike was leant against the alleyway wall. Blood – so much blood – was pooling beneath him in a dark puddle of kismet. He glanced up, crimson falling from parting lips, an agonized scream following as he fell forwards. Knees smashing to the ground.

Shaun rushed forwards, arms wrapping around Mike’s juddering torso. “Shit! Oh, shit! Mike! No, God no!” Thick, warm liquid oozed over his hands. “It’s-it’s okay…you’re okay. Hold on…I need…need to get you to a hospital. Come on, mate…come on.”

So many holes…

Mike moved. Gasping, trying to speak, trying to stand. All potency and power draining away. Draining down his weakening body. Running along the soiled earth.

His hands clawed at Shaun, blunt nails digging into leather, pulling at it with terror. Each movement dawdling. Frail. Deteriorating with each passing second.
Shaun tried to add pressure to the injuries. Battling with the apprehension within him. At the voice in his head that told him the truth. A lost cause. It was just a lost cause.

So many holes…so many…

Hot tears stung his eyes. Burning his skin as they fell. Shaking his head, he pulled Mike up against him, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Feeling the faint pulse there.

“It’s okay…it’s alright…” Shaun gathered him up into his arms. Fell back against the wall, bringing Mike into his lap. His jeans becoming increasingly drenched in scarlet essence.

A pale, bloodied hand pressed against his shoulder, almost slipping away. Shaun caught it. Held it firmly. Rested his chin on Mike’s forehead. Declining breaths blew across his neck. “It’s alright…” he murmured. “It’s alright…I’m here, mate. I’m here. I’m- I- I’m…” He faltered. More tears falling.

Mike’s eyelids fluttered. His mouth working, air escaping, dancing across Shaun’s throat. Words. Barely audible. Tumbled past a quivering tongue.
Shaun’s arms tightened. Pressing the diminishing body further against him. Moving to press his forehead to Mike’s.

So many holes…so many…so damn many…

The hand under his shuddered, clenched, then went limp. Crystal blue eyes dulled. Becoming lifeless. A chocked sigh wisped from pallid lips. Colliding with Shaun’s face. Half drying the tears there.

Shaun let out a wail as the body became nothing but an empty shell in his arms. Muscles relaxing. Head falling back limply. Warm fluid abruptly trickled through the material of his jeans, soaking his legs. But Shaun couldn’t find it in himself to care…

Hours pasted. He remained. Slumped up against the alley way wall, amongst the grime and debris of the overfed town, he sat. Holding a corpse. Blood streaking his clothes. Causing them to sag from the weight. Large amounts of the heavy liquid, tugging.

Discoloration.

Knew he would be stained with it forever. Stained with someone else’s existence. Knew it would never scrub out. Would cling to him now matter how hard he rubbed. He didn’t care.

It had already seeped through. Sticking to his skin. Dripping down his body. And he would always remember the way it felt. Slipping slowly down in moderate droplets. Leaving a path of red in its wake. Marking him. The sensation, much like the sight and smell, would always be with him. Eternally.

It was cold now. The heat of life long since vanished.It made him shiver but he didn’t drop the body. Didn’t push it away. Instead he held it tighter, bringing it to his chest and rocking slightly, like one would with a child.

“I’m sorry…so sorry…” He muttered. Eyes unblinkingly staring forwards. Tears running down his cheeks unnoticed. “I’m sorry…”

So many holes…

Holes - Story

Gemma Birks

Newcastle-under-Lyme, United Kingdom

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

Sorry if this is a tad crappy.
I just wrote it and it’s really late.
Why must I write at strange hours?
Sorry about any mistakes

Updated and edited 05/02/10
Edited 12/07/10

Artwork Comments

  • Nathaniel Tempest
  • Gemma Birks
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