Gunmetal Blue

I never realised how much I truly wanted to live until the moment I was staring death straight in the face. I was standing in an empty parking lot at approximately 11pm on a Saturday night, when I heard footsteps on the smooth concrete behind me. Having suffered from serious paranoia my entire life, it took everything I had to convince myself that the footsteps were not in fact, a murderer, but rather just another innocent pedestrian en route to his car. Despite telling myself not to panic, my heart did not adhere to my head, and without my consent my feet began to quicken beneath me, ushering me toward my car, a mere ten feet away. It was at this point I felt the cold hard metal connect with the back of my head, followed by the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
"I guess it's your unlucky day man." I dared not swivel around to stare my attacker in the face. The sound of my heart in my ears clouding any coherent thought I could muster.
"Now are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?" The man's voice was thick and husky; his breath smelled of stale cigarettes and ale, assumedly he'd been out drinking tonight. That was the only reason I could conjure up for such an act of stupidity.
I felt the nozzle of the gun press harder into the back of my head, willing an action for me. I assumed he was requesting my wallet, given my knowledge of these situations. I slowly moved my hand to the pocket of my dark denim jeans, careful not to arouse any sudden reactions from the man. I felt my fingers close around the smooth leather of my wallet and carefully began to withdraw it.
"Okay, I'm going to turn around now so I can give this to you. Don't shoot okay?" I added hastily.
The man appeared to grunt in response, which I assumed to be agreement to my request. I turned steadily, for fear that if I moved too quickly I'd cause him to shoot me dead on the spot.
When I had fully turned around I was finally able to look the villain in the face; I was astounded to find that the man looking back at me was not a man at all, but a teenage boy. From the soft curves of his face and slight stubble along his lower jaw, I would have placed the boy at around 17 years old. Not old enough to drink, I pondered, but given his swaying hands and disheveled demeanor, the boy was clearly drunk.
"Come on then, hand it over." The boy demanded, crisp blue eyes boring into my face.
I took one last look at the wallet in my hand, and questioned how much I truly thought my life was worth. £1000? £3000? More? What would I be willing to give up to survive for a few more years on this miserable earth? I slipped my fingers over the soft surface of the wallet, fumbling for the button to open it.
"No, no. I want the whole thing. Hand it over." Blue eyes was clearly getting agitated at my delay.
I began to hand my wallet over to the boy, all the money I currently had stuffed firmly inside. However, as I did so, a gust of wind blew in from across the lot, causing my wallet to flutter open. The motion made me pause and look down at the piece of leather in my hand; that's when I saw you. Gazing up at me with expectant gunmetal blue eyes, promising me of a future that was ripped from us too young; filling me with half lived memories and a deep sorrowful regret. Then I realised, this was the only photo of you I had left, but it was so much more than a photo. It was the day I asked you to dance at the country fair and you said yes, it was the night we shared our first kiss under a blanket of obsidian stars; it was the first time I'd believed in a future that consisted of more than working on my dad's farm, and late nights of the local pub. I knew that I would give up all the money I possessed, for one more moment on this earth. But I couldn't give up you, no matter if it was just a memory.
"No." I whispered, pushing the wallet back into my pocket.
That was the last thing I heard before the sound of gun fire tore through the parking lot.