𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐞

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

["If 'happy ever after' did exist,
I would still be holding you like this."]

❦

I wanted to die that day.

I don't know why I didn't.

Five years ago

Hell awaits me, I thought as I held the gun to my head. My finger was on the trigger that I had fired so many times.

Finger.

Trigger.

Head.

Bullet.

I'll be by her side soon.

Death has never seemed more tempting than now.

Finger.

Trigger.

Head.

Bullet.

Her.

Finger.

Head.

Her.

Only her.

It was hard to think of, but easy to do. The skin of my fingers wrapped around the cold metal that I soon felt on my skull.

One bullet is enough.

One bullet.

Don't screw this up.

My fingers pressed on the trigger, sending the last shivers down my body and making my veins lose color.

I felt nothing.

But the sound that subdued out my thoughts destabilized me at the moment. I cumpled on the cold floor, the pain in my head and spine, reverberanting in the distance.

My blood evaporated when I realized what was happening and noticed a man, my man, kneeling before me.

"Yi?" My blurred eyes did not allow me to interpret who was in front of me. My ears gave me away as soon as I heard the sound of gunfire.

"Fuck boss, what were you thinking!" My mind couldn't distinguish who is the person infront of me. Despise the closeness between us, the fog fell on my eyes like a curtain. "Hunter, are you okay?"

Even if I wanted to answer, it was impossible. Sweat stung me like salt water in the bright sun, soaking my clothes until they stuck to me like second skin.

"My gun." I muttered, finding my voice. I felt blind by pushing away from the grip of the man who was after me the moment I stepped away. "Where's my gun?" I almost shouted, scanning the floor below me for some kind of clue. But instead, I met a woman whose image looms large in my dreams and nightmares.

Her portrait. A portrait that I painted and carelessly placed on the nightstand next to the bed.

Her brown eyes absorbed my soul, piercing it with such force that I fell to the floor clutching my head. My chest seemed to tighten more and more, and I felt that my internal organs were bursting under the pressure.

My screams were nothing compared to the pain I felt, and like a ghost, the knife sank into my chest in the same place where she was bleeding.

But I wasn't bleeding. And in the next moment, I was in bed surrounded by people I didn't bother to remember. And a doctor who was pressing the blood pressure monitor.

Then I realized that what I wanted to leave behind was inevitable.

This life especially.

I lived. And no mater how many attempts and how many tries, I always failed.

❦