I regretted leaving. I run to him. The one i love. And I find him. He's in a bathtub, fully clothed, soaking wet and crying. I run to him. I ask if he is okay and that im sorry for leaving. He just sobs and cries into my shirt. By now im soaked by his clothes and his salty tears. I bring him to his room and help him calm down and change. We talk and i cry as well. All is well. I leave, telling him good bye and that I love him. He begs me not to leave. He begs and begs until i give in. I stay with him. Not regretting it. Until i hear a gun shot in the night. I wake up, and I run to his room remembering he owns a gun. And remembering the day before, i cry hoping not to find him dead. I run faster feeling like the hallways is stretching. I finally make it feeling like it took days. I try to open the door but to no avail. I run and grab a chair and beat the door down hoping to find him asleep on his bed. What I see ensures me he is okay. He is sound asleep. But when I turn on the lights, i scream. He isn't sound asleep. He is dead. With a bullet straight through his broken heart. All because of me. I pick up his gun. And I lay down next to him, hugging onto his cold, lifeless body. I put the gin to my head. And I pull the trigger. But only to find out there are no bullets, but a single, folded up piece of paper inside the chamber. It reads, "I love you." ....
