There is something beautiful about being on the verge of death. I feel things that I have never felt before and it is exhilarating as much as it is terrifying. All my senses are focused on one point, holding it into my mind as if it is a part of me. At this moment, time stood still and everything no longer existed. It's only me and him in our own little world.I can hear the rapid heartbeat of the tattered creature in front of me, playing the last song I would ever hear. I can see the air shimmer and caress him like a blanket as he shakes with frustration. I can practically taste his salty tears mixed with his minty breath on my tongue. Most of all, I can smell the metallic scent of the handgun pointing at me.
My eyes gaze at him calmly as I take in his crazed features. His black hair clings to his sweaty skin, his bloodshot eyes are tearful and unfocused, his nose is crooked, bruised and bleeding, his wife-beater is painted with the mixture of our blood and I can clearly see the deep scratches I left down his arms from my struggle.
He keeps the gun pointed at me and I know he is far too deep for me to save. Yet, my lips still form a tiny smile. And it's because of him. Although his mind is no longer in reality, he is still the man I love.
Then, my senses slowly start to numb and I know my end was coming. I block out the knocking on my apartment door and the yelling behind it. I didn't want to hear anything. I didn't want to feel anything.
I close my eyes, then the door slams opened at the same time that he pulls the trigger.
____________________________________________
So, what d'yall think of that?Btw, this is dedicate to AmberKalkes13!
She's an amazing writer and I learned to start a story with a bang by reading her books!-chelseyJ
YOU ARE READING
Happiness is a Warm Gun
Teen Fiction"Come back to me, my love. The voices aren't real"