june writing challenge day 17

i was sure it was real

hidden behind a concrete cylinder, i stop to catch my breath for, i think, the first time since this began.

my heart is pulsing through my ears,

somehow drowning out the sound of triggered fire behind me.

i only hope that i can grip the weapon in my hands tighter than my fear and sweaty palms will draw it away from me.

this is my last chance to prove my worth.

to her, to all of them,

i think.

i say a silent prayer to a god i'm not sure i believe in,

and to my knees in hopes they don't fail to carry me,

and then lift off.

with each long stride forward, i am blinded by the fog of my own delusion.

its almost a flow state, i think,

but without the peace,

without the mindfulness.

three more steps, four more tugs of the trigger,

a flash of colour, and then

quiet.

its over.

no more desperate sounds of footsteps.

no more firing.

only the pounding in my temples,

the rapid rise and fall in my chest,

and me.

i won.

i think.