𝐏𝐓 | ❝𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳❞.
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Your life was never meant to turn out that way.
But the question here is: is anything ever meant to be?
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°•.various x fem!reader.•°
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⚠️𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:⚠️...
╔════════════════════╗ ❝Welcome to Hell on Earth❞ ╚════════════════════╝
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The amount of blood that surrounded your shaking body was prodigious. You didn't even know how you ended up in that situation in the first place.
You could hear the deafening and bone-chilling sound of gunshots coming from every recondite place, one after the other. It looked like it wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
Your life hasn't been the easiest one, you've gone through a lot since you were a little girl. You started noticing and understanding every single detail about anything that happened around you at a very young age, which made things even more tiring. Ignorance is happiness, or so they say.
But you were never an ignorant.
Yet, from all of the situations you've been involved in, even the most disturbing ones, you never imagined yourself laying on a pool of your own blood. The dark red liquid confused you at first as you ran your shaky hand through it; its viscosity not alarming you for a few seconds before you registered everything.
You were bleeding to a potential death.
Definitely, that was something you never expected.
Helping yourself up with your hands, trying your best not to slip, you managed to stand up. The scene you encountered almost horrorizing you. It calmed you a bit though, knowing that the blood that surrounded you wasn't yours, not all at least. And the fact that you could still walk, even though your thigh was bleeding uncontrollably, was a good sign. Your body weighed three times more, but it was only normal.
There was not much cloth to your dress, so you just ripped apart a piece of one of the corpses' shirts to help you make an improvised tourniquet to help stop the blood flow.
You grabbed a random gun, scattered on the floor, and slowly made yourself out of that room, the metallic smell inside making it difficult for you to breathe with each passing second.
You could still hear the gunshots, but they sounded further away. You tried to advance, as quickly as possible, walking through empty corridors. There weren't any corpses around them, but you could definitely make out the stains of splattered blood on the walls, or the trace of it on the clear carpets. It looked like they took care of hiding every dead body in the room you found yourself in. And it made you wonder who had the audacity to drag you around like you were some kind of useless object that they just wanted to get rid of.
You hid behind a wall when you heard the rushed approaching steps of a few men, not really caring about the trace that you were leaving since there was blood everywhere; you could easily go unnoticed by some random person.
