Trigger warnings for suicide. This one isn't particularly long, I just wanted to get something out.
It isn't often that America rejects a New Years party, especially in a fancy penthouse estate with a perfect view of the city's very core, where the celebration and parade was held. The sight of people moving to follow the parade was like watching blood gush through the veins of a beautiful living creature, something much larger than him or anything else.
The night was clear, surprisingly. The moon shone full and bright, bathing her ethereal light onto the world below. But no matter how bright she was, there's no chance of anyone truly experiencing it, for the lights within the city's beating heart are too bright. A shame, really.
America crosses his legs over the edge of the roof. The railing wasn't hard to balance on, even after two glasses of a delicate rosé and a shot of Grey Goose. America never bothered with the brand, but tonight is a special night. He'll treat himself tonight, have something good that will linger on the tongue for a while.
Lord knows that he should savor it, before blood sours its flavor. The thought of the salty, metallic liquid soiling the taste makes his stomach roil.
It will be quick, he assures himself.
He reaches to his side, and he picks up a simple pistol, black from magazine to barrel. Inside the chamber is one bullet, enough to do the job.
He primes the pistol, and it gives a dangerous, intimidating cocking noise. He stares at it, not with fear, but intrigue.
How does gunpowder taste? Like ash and death?
Lifting the gun's barrel up to his open mouth, and pointing it upward, he's quite sure he'll figure out soon.
Through the boom of fireworks, it was impossible to make out a gunshot.
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Historical Fiction[!] this is abandoned and will not be updated again. [!] This book is a trigger warning in and of itself. Drabbles varying in length, unedited. Some have 400 words, others 4K. Idk man I'm sleepy
