Flash me, baby!

I hate to do another cliffhanger type week, but I did. I have to say, the prompt made me think a little, but I also just had a hard time thinking of good way to start up again this week. Jemma surprised me. Hope you don’t hate how she reacted. *grins shyly* Enjoy!

Prompt: Click, click, bang

Click, click, bang.

Isn’t that how a gunfight went?

Except, she heard no clicks. Just a loud explosion that still echoed in her ears.

Eliciting a tiny moan, she tried to roll to a sitting position. Why couldn’t she move?

Oh my God! How badly was she hurt? Was she paralyzed? On the brink of death? Where was the pretty white light that announced her impending death?


Where was Abe? He would make it all better. Why wasn’t he holding her, telling her everything would be okay? Did he hate her? Did he really think she was leaving him?

Never. It had all been part of her plan. She knew her father had men watching her, getting confirmation she did as she was told. The strong suspicion her father was going to harm Abe made her prepared for anything tonight. What surprised her was her father showing up. He always let others handle the dirty work for him.

Then her fathers words sucked the breath clean out of her. “I think you should ask my daughter that question.” Not that she had much air left because she still couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend anything going on. One thing was clear. Her father didn’t care about her. Well, he didn’t matter either.

Another moan slipped out. The sound startled her. Looking down, she finally understood why she couldn’t move.

Abe lay on top of her, bleeding, his blood soaking her straight to the bone.

The entire scene replayed as if it were happening for the first time. Her father and Abe staring each other down. The eerie way they both squeezed the trigger at the same time. Abe had instinctively moved over, shielding her, taking the bullet meant for her.

She went down hard, as did Abe. She could recall the shocked expression on her father’s face as he clutched his chest as the bullet tore through his skin, then crumbled to the floor. Then everything went black. For how long? She wasn’t sure. Now it didn’t matter. Abe needed medical attention.

With as much strength as she could muster, she pushed against the dead weight—no, not dead—heavy weight, cringing as his aching moans bounced off the walls. She hated to move him, knowing how much pain that created, but she welcomed his moans. Any sound from him meant he was alive. She’d take brutal, heartwrenching moans to dead silence.

She sat up quickly, nearly falling back as dizziness plagued her. Ignoring the wooziness rushing to her head, the pain radiating everywhere, she ripped her shirt off, slamming it over the wound on Abe’s chest.

He lost too much blood already. She didn’t think he could afford to lose much more. Her shirt went easily from white to bright red in seconds. His moans were diminishing in strength as she pushed harder.

“Stay with me, Abe. Please. I can’t lose you.”

No response. Not a moan. Not an affectionate look from his chocolate brown eyes. Not even a small twitch from the pain. Just nothing.

Pushing even harder, she glanced at her father. He also lay on the floor, slowly bleeding. The only difference—her father was dead. No sign of life erupted, and the looks of his two cronies kneeling by his side said as much.

Keeping the pressure as best as she could, she leaned forward, her fingers curling around the gun with ease. Raising the weapon, she didn’t blink as she squeezed the trigger. Over and over and over.

Click, click, bang.

No. More like, bang, bang, bang.

Then it was just her and Abe, him clinging to life.

Death surrounded her. She only prayed that didn’t include Abe. If he died before the paramedics arrived, more death would rain down.

Her fingers maintained a firm grip on the weapon as she waited.


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