Shorts

Bowie in the Great Escape

I had ironically titled this "Up on the rooftop *Click Click Click* But looking back I can see how terrible of me that was.

I will add another warning here: THIS STORY INVOLVES SUICIDE. Straight up. Please, please, please, do not read this if you are sensitive to this type of material.

Thus ends the intro.

"I have to do this. You don't understand." He growled in frustration.

"Then you could tell me. And you could help me understand." I blurted, trying to keep my voice steady.

"No!" He shouted. "I need this now."

I stood by, useless as he started pacing by the ledge, muttering to himself and pulling the hair on either side of his head.

He stopped suddenly, looking up at me with an almost menacing grin.

"Let's go out with a bang then, shall we?" His smile widening as he pulled a handgun from his waistband and held it to his temple.

"Bowie, no. You don't want to do this." I struggled, trying to keep him from pulling that trigger.

But even I knew that wasn't true. I had done this before, so many different scenarios, all played out with two constant factors. Bowie gets triggered and I talk him out of it. It was my selfishness that caused this. I made him suffer. I coiled up that anxiety. I caged all those emotions. But now, they had finally gotten free. And there is nothing I can do.

"I'm sorry Bowie." I whispered, tears on the brink of escape.

Our eyes met, locking. I stared, memorizing every little detail of his crystal blue eyes.

"I'm sorry too." He breathed, before finally ending it all.

The loud bang rang in my ears, deafening me. I almost miss the thud and crunch as Bowie falls to the gravel of the rooftop.

There was nothing I could do. He wanted this. No, he needed this. He was in a better place now. Where he would be happy. Away from everything.

I collapsed to my knees, the weight of what had just took place hitting me full force.

"NO!" I screamed at the sky, tears now flowing freely.

"No, no, no," I shouted over and over, pounding the gravel of the rooftop below me.

I finally gave up, letting my forehead drop hard down to the ground between my bloody fists. I started thrashing again, throwing the small pebbles everywhere.

I looked up at Bowie, scanning his body. When I finally made it to his chest I knew I wouldn't be able to look at that again. The way his scalp had torn off, his brain exploding and turning to mush, his mangled face, unrecognizable.

No. I couldn't see that again. I lay down a few meters away from Bowie on a patch of concrete.

"I'm so sorry Bowie." I whispered to the wind.