Cold Black steel,
Rests in my hands.

Adrenaline and fear,
Is what keeps me safe,
Pushing me to be on alert.

The feel of fire,
Runs across my cheek.

Duck.

Cover.

Searching my surroundings,
Every door,
Every window.

I hear a noise,
And i jump up,
The thrust of the gun on my chest after every shot,
Lets me know i am still alive.

Fire rings out,
But i am alone,
And although there are places to hide,
I will not cower.

One two three thrusts,
I am still alive.

And then slowly and achingly,
Fire burns in my chest,
Game over.