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Her body ached as she wrapped her frail arms around the ivory cross; the strength she had once tried to conserve in desperation was long gone.  The girl was only blood and bones now, and the flesh holding them together was simply too thin to count as anything other than her last shred of sanity.  Her bloodshot eyes tried their best to produce something but there was simply nothing left.  Her only bidders but evaporating tears that knew it wouldn't do to stay any longer.

Her matted chestnut hair fell in front of her face as she hugged the cross tighter, as if maybe she could become part of it and be saved from this horrible existence that was her.  As if it was her salvation.  But she knew it wasn't, nothing was.  Her mind was nothing but useless thoughts and mumbled phrases that couldn't produce a single coherent thought if she tried.  Her body acted only upon muscle memory, and it pushed her to hug the cross tighter and tighter, just like she had done countless times before.  The girl couldn't even stop herself when she felt the fine edges digging into her skin, warning her of what were to happen if she continued.  She ignored the tingling pain like she always did by simply closing her eyes and pulled the frigid stone closer, its four extending arms the last representation of anything she had ever held dear.  And it wasn't the alone.
Identical pieces filled the small field around her, each one showcasing a single part of her sanity and the moment on which she had lost them.

The girl tried to cry, tried to let out a sob or a whimper.   But all that materialized was a heart wrenching scream that echoed across the empty field, the countless crosses being her only audience.

Her body ached all over, a searing pain ran up her side as she felt the blood seeping out of her with each second, and all she could do was sit there and hug the lifeless thing until her body gave out on her.  Even if she knew deep down that doing so was pointless.
The girl didn't question, didn't even ponder the plausibility, when she first spotted the ebony gun next to her.  She didn't query as to why her body released the pearly anchor and slowly crawled over to the gun, her knees scraping along the leaf barren ground while leaving two single trails of blood with each slide of the knees and stumble of the hand.  She didn't wait a few moments to guess the outcome when she decided to simply hold the heavy gun in her hand, the sting of it against her raw hands nothing more than a numbing sensation, as if her hands had simply fallen asleep.  She didn't pause or waver before she awkwardly positioned the barrel to the side of her head and placed a small, pale finger on the trigger.  She only smiled when she pulled the trigger, so sure that her knight in shining black armor had come and that the nightmare was finally over.

It wasn't until her body slumped over in recoil, pale blue eyes dead with her everlasting joy, that she would have seen the two men standing in the small patch of trees behind her.   Their black suits blended in with the twisting branches that reached out to her, as if to beg her to come back.  The men casually stared at the motionless girl before producing two identical all-knowing smiles.   The taller of the two strolled over to the girl, picking up the murderous machine like it was nothing but a play thing, "Next time, we use your gun."

His partner only rolled his eyes in reply before stepping out from within the trees and walking down a small path that lead away from the field that reeked of death.

The remaining man sighed as he tossed a nonchalant glace at the girl lying beneath him, a pool of blood staining the ground beneath her as she stared longingly at something only those blessed with death can see, before scoffing in disgust.  He knew that no matter how hard you fight, the nightmares will always find you.  Even if you run or try to last till the end, you will always fall.  It is the simple nature of things that at one point the prey will eventually be caught.  It is only the prolongation of capture which harbors these thoughts of hope and liberation.  And that is the most dangerous of all.

"On to the next one, I suppose," the man gave with heavy sigh of disappointment as he pulled the gun from the young girls grip without the slightest hesitation, "hopefully with better outcomes."

With that the man turned on his heels as well and pocketed the ebony gun before following suite in the direction in which his partner had left.