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There is no hope. The bastard has got me good. I am bleeding out, I have a few minutes at most. No hope, even if I call for help, I am dying. The bastard in black has taken my wallet,but not my phone. I could call for help, The ambulance, police.
I pull my hand up to my pocket, blood slick and red on my palm. I carefully pull out my phone, my hands are already going weak. I can feel the blood drenching my jacket and shirt. The moistness of it biting into my skin, the cold air stinging it. But I can feel a kind of numbness too, a certain degree of detachment. Nothing matters anymore. I wish I'd given it up without a fight. I wish I had. the pain in my chest is dull.
I punch numbers into my phone. some twice as my fingers slip. It takes me longer than usual to type the familiar number.
"Hello?" Thank god, she answers. Anna, my Anna.
"Hello, darling. It's me." My voice is probably a bit faint,b ut I try to muster the strenght to keep it up. She doesn't notice. My daughter is used to me being sick.
"Hey dad, how are you?" I smile, that's my girl, nothing wrong here.
"I'm ok darling, hey listen, I just need to tell you something."
I cough a little, and blood goes over the phone.
"Dad? are you ok?"
I whipe the phone.
"yeah honey, I'm fine." I feel colder now, I don't hurt anymore. I haven't got long now.
"Listen darling, I just want you to know that I love you, and your mother. please tell her for me. thank you sweety." I don't wait for her to reply, I end the call.
I sigh deeply, my breathing is slowing. I'm dying.
I'm dying...
I'm dying....

Uhhh grim and dark I suppose

So.......and?

Am I supposed to feel something for these characters? Am I supposed to react to a single paragraph without context or character building?