It was times like this that he wondered exactly why he became a cop.
Time and again when asked he'd say that he wanted to help people; he wanted to be one of the few that
chose to make a difference - however small.
However futile the effort was.
But, he didn't choose to get shot at.
He didn't choose to hang in the foggy place between life and death.
He never wanted to die, and he hated losing.
And yet there he was, laying on the cold, hard floor as his heart beat a mile a minute, trying to keep his
body warm; trying to keep him alive.
His head was pounding, he was dizzy, like the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole and he
couldn't find anything to break his fall.
His eyes opened and closed every so often; he gave up trying to figure out whether he was awake or not -
for how long until he sunk back down.
The moments he was conscious, he remembered what had lead up to this very moment.
Or, maybe it wasn't a moment, maybe it was eternity...
Stefan had taken the call like any other.
It was supposed to be a routine robbery; some pathetic lowlifes who only cared about themselves, about
their problems, and about money.
Everything and everyone else was just an obstacle to them.
Rusty stayed behind to take the witnesses statements and assess the store's damage.
He couldn't come along to help, he was too old.
Of course Stefan went after them, he had to, it was his job.
It was what he was born to do, wasn't it?
Stefan had gone out the back, down the alley...
There was a warehouse, and some stairs.
Who's bright idea was it to have cops chase after goons with guns, anyway?
He was almost at the top, ready to give chase once more when-
There was a loud bang, the sound bouncing off concrete and steel walls like thunder in a metal drum.
His heart had skipped a beat, as it tended to do in standoffs like this.
But then there was a pressure in his gut, his stomach began to hurt.
His hand instinctively moved to grab his shirt, his fingers getting drenched in a warm, sticky fluid.
Copper then filled his nostrils.
No...
No...
Stefan's mouth dropped open, first in shock, the horror, the unfairness of it all.
And then the pain set in, and it was enough to knock him off his feet...
And back down those same stairs.
His gut hurt so bad, he barely registered the knocks he received to his head and back; his arms grasped his
midsection desperately to protect himself - against the blows during the fall, or blood loss, he didn't know.
He had landed at the bottom, finding little comfort in the coolness of the concrete floor as his cheek rested
against it.
For a moment, he wondered how he had gotten down here in the first place.
It had happened too quickly.
He remembered some shouts, some footsteps getting further away...
Cowards.
He wanted to be angry, he wanted to swear until he was blue in the face but at this point it took all the
concentration he had to remember to breathe at all.
Why?
Why did this happen?
Did it have to happen?
Why him, of all people?
Soon, Stefan couldn't even manage to think that, nor did he want to...
So, he prayed.
He hoped that someone would've heard the gunshot, would've found him.
Where was Rusty?
Where was the ambulance?
Just...help.
Help.
Why was it taking so long?
Stefan was scared to let his eyes close, but at the same time he didn't want to feel the pain.
He didn't want to be aware of the blood seeping out of his body, puddling around him on the lonely floor.
He hated how his head was swimming; dropping, only to be picked up, like a marionette on strings.
Was that it?
Was he just a toy?
He sure fell down those stairs like a ragged doll, and he felt abandoned like one, too; left alone and
forgotten because he had served his purpose.
He just wanted to go home.
He longed for the feeling of his soft, warm bed.
He wanted to listen to the radio, even if it was stuck on the boring show tunes, it was better than this
pounding in his head.
He would do anything, anything to get out of here...
But his own body was against him, the one thing left he thought he had control over and it wanted him to
sleep now, of all times.
It was so cold, so quiet, and his body felt heavy and...
It...just didn't matter anymore, not right now.
Stefan curled up as best he could, trying to keep warm, and waited.
He thought he heard something in the distance, but he couldn't make it out.
Some kind of wailing, maybe.
It was fine, everything would be okay, he was sure of it...
He could've sworn he heard someone whispering, right in his ear, but who?
Stefan felt himself sinking more and more, letting the abyss pull on him.
He sighed and sank into a dreamless sleep.
+ . + . + . + . + . + .
Poor Stefan, I feel bad for getting him shot, but I really wanted to try taking on the challenge and see how it
works out. Again, I feel that the start is pretty strong, and it might even be a good premise for a full story -
or series - but I don't have an idea fully fleshed out just yet, hmm...
I just finished writing this today as a noir prompt for Noirvember, whew!
I might write a few more of these, but they'll probably have to wait until December since I've been very
busy these last few weeks.
My dad broke his foot at work, so he's been home resting until it's healed; which could be another week or
so until he goes back to work. I've been taking care of him while my mom's at work, and the holidays are
coming up so things will be kinda hectic for awhile...
I don't expect to get fully back into writing until probably New Year's, but that's fine since I don't have a
whole lot of story ideas for the moment - this is a good chance to get everything written down, so that when
I am ready to sit down and work, I can pick an idea at a glance and get to it!
Happy Holidays, everyone - take care!
Lin