Hang Em' High [RDR2 X FEM!Reader]

Red

THE FOLLOWING STORY HAS THE FOLLOWING TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mention of Alcohol, alcohol abuse, threatening behaviour, vomiting, death, strong language, manipulation, panic attacks, anxiety, grief and more this piece of writing will get updated as more chapters get released so please be sure to come back and check if you are worried as I may not always remember to give a TW before the part of the story. If ANYTHING listed triggers you PLEASE do not read on. Have an amazing day everyone I love you all.

You'd always loved the colour red, the way it dramatised everything and you thought it went with anything. It's funny what you think about when you're minutes away from death, the stupidest of things run through your head; the time you accidentally called your science teacher "dad" or how much you wanted a pet chicken.... or how much you like the colour red.

You sat on a feeble, wooden stool in the damp cellar of an abandoned building, about half an hour from the nearest town, Valentine. You had a dirty rag wrapped around your head tightly, blocking your view, you had the same in your mouth too, preventing you from screaming for help. You had been kidnapped by some crooks while returning to work. You were a farmer, the farm had been in the family for decades. You'd always had dreams of going on adventures, but you couldn't just abandon something that had been handed down to you with trust you'd do best by it.

Suddenly your random thoughts were interrupted by gun shots and yells in the far distance. Had the law came to help? The noise crept closer and closer to you. Half of you prayed it would fall silent and the other prayed it'd get louder. The door to the cellar slammed open with a crash. The weak stairs creaked as weight was placed on them.
"Oh hell Arthur, come take a look at this." Spoke a rough voice in a low tone
"What is it?" Spoke a slightly softer yet still very rough voice "oh my- it's a girl."
You screamed through your tatted fabric frantically and you felt their presents grew ever closer, you felt large hands unravel your blindfold and you were greeted with two very concerned faces.
"I'm Dutch and this is-" the man began to speak, but he was interrupted by your capturers tackling both the men to the ground. One of your kidnappers raised to his feet, proud of himself for getting his opponent to the floor
"Tackling a man while he has his back to you isn't very brave." You spoke in anger, you couldn't help but say stupid things in the stupidest of times, you'd often fall victim to making already bad situations worse by not being able to keep your mouth shut. The kidnapper looked offended and muttered
"We already have everything we need from you." He raised his gun to you, looked you in the eyes and pulled the trigger. A metal bullet shot through your chest, leaving a gaping wound, blood shot out of your chest and the white fabric of your shirt absorbed the majority like a dry sponge to a wet surface. Your vision became blurred and you just about made out your saviours getting back to their feet and shooting the crooks.
"We're even!" You croak, but to anyone else's ears it was inaudible. Your head became too heavy for your shoulders, causing it to fall down. You were now staring at the deep, red ocean in your chest. You always loved the colour red. Now it was all you could see.