Dawn ran. She always ran. She thought of the humidity that evening. How frustrating and icky feeling it was. The City was always humid this time of year. Why did her stupid job require her to wear pantyhose?
Dawn didn't want to die. She didn't want to be shot. This was supposed to be a routine informant meeting. Why do I always have to meet these people in places like this?
The sound of the gun made Dawn emit an involuntary sob. She wasn't supposed to die like this. Not like this. Not shot in the back while running for her life.
The stinging sensation was immediate and hot in her leg, stopping her in her tracks. The feeling was all consuming. I didn't think it would feel... like this. I don't want to die. I didn't think getting shot would feel like this.