Emotional Wreck

When he had the chance

I lay there with my mother as she is still drifting, but not quite gone. My leg is in excruciating pain.. But I'm holding it back because it's not as bad as the emotional pain I'm feeling right now.
I just killed my father.
My mother is dying in my arms.
Even though I'd hoped this wouldn't be my fate..
It is.
I have to deal with this.
For the rest of my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night, I lay on the floor covered in blood. The cops haven't been here, but why? There were 3 gun shots. That should be enough to send the cops here. Where is my phone? I need to call. Mom needs help. I try to pull myself out from under my mom who is still with me. She's hanging in there.
"It's okay mom. I'm trying to find my phone." I say. I grab my moms hand to put it next to me as I get up, realizing something I did not want to ever think. Her hand is cold. I quickly rush, looking to her face to see its pale. Her eyes are closed. "Mom." I shook her. "MOM!" I yell. She's not answering me. I lay there and cry. This is the most I've cried ever I think. I lay my head on my mothers chest remembering how she smelt and the way she talked, as if I still had it. As if I'd never forget it. This is my fault. I let her die. I let her take the bullet for me. How am I gonna even go on? He should have killed me when he had the chance.