Suicide

Lethal?

Andrea just stood there.

Motionless out of shock and confusion.

Then she let out forced laughter. This had to be a dream.
But she knew it wasn't.
Then she started to panic. And cry. Tears came down profusely. This was accompanied with nausea and she rushed to vomit in the kitchen sink. She turned on the tap to wash her mouth but she just couldn't do anything. The sound of the water gushing out from the tap and into the sink faded into the background.

I just killed her.
I don't even know her.
She's probably somebody's mother.
Somebody's wife.
Possibly a single mother.
Did I just make some people motherless?
Or orphans?
Did I just create a widower out of a person?
Am I so toxic that people around me would start dying now?
I'm such a terrible person.

She had never felt guilt on such a level. She was so disgusted with herself. She tried to convince herself that it was an accident but it didn't go far.

Then she felt anger at the woman for putting her in this position.

Couldn't she have done a check on the job before signing up?
If she couldn't even do that couldn't she let me know that she was in the house so that things like this couldn't happen?

That didn't go very far either. She felt anger for thinking such thoughts and hated herself even more.

I'm so horrible. I'm blaming a dead person for something I did.
She's dead.

Then panic started again.

Oh God, what do I do?

Then she remembered Abby.

Why haven't I remembered Abby till now?
I was never really alone, was I? I have Abby.
I'll call her. She always makes light out of a horrible situation.

Abby was her really close friend. She was one of the people Andrea could really count on, which begged the questions;
Why hasn't she come to see me all this while?
Maybe we weren't really close friends after all. I didn't remember her, after all.
She's such a perceptive person. Maybe she saw that I was a time bomb just waiting to go off and escaped while she could.
I'm the problem.
My parents died. I lived.
I'm the problem.
The doctors struggled to keep me alive while they could be spending their time with someone of better worth.
I'm the problem.
Now I'm alive and I've caused havoc.
I've probably put strain on Linda's already strained marriage.
Linda. Linda's an attorney. She'd know what to do.
Yes, I should contact her.

She couldn't find her phone initially. She went back and forth searching. No furniture was changed but it was like she didn't even know her own house. Then it dawned on her and she remembered she was robbed.
So she searched the woman for a phone. She hated herself for doing it but if Linda employed her she must've had Linda's number.
She found the phone and it was stained with blood. She started to reconsider whether she should call Linda or not.

To what good would it be?
She'd just waste her effort trying to defend me in court.
She'd probably win.
And I'd eventually be free.
Putting more people in trouble.

I don't deserve to live.
I'm better off dead.
Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn't it?
The police see two dead bodies. They find my finger prints on the knife. Then they see my dead body.
No one to defend.

And the best part is I don't have to be a pain in anybody's life.
The robbers should've just shot me in the head.

She looked at the gun on the floor and picked it up. How it worked besides pulling the trigger, she didn't know. But she could find out.
She had heard from someone that you could use images to search for things on the internet so she tried it out. The woman didn't have any data so she connected to the neighbour's WiFi. Thankfully, they still hadn't changed their password.

The occasional tear dropped on the keypad and she used her clothes to wipe them off each time.
It didn't even bother her that she was staining her clothes with the woman's blood.

It wasn't hard to find the information she wanted. She took the picture, found the browser she was meant to use and found several sites. Many were irrelevant but after a couple of minutes, she found what she was looking for.
According to what she saw, it resembled a Taurus Millennium G2 PT111, not like that was supposed to mean anything to her.
The safety was in fact, on and she found out how to flip it off. The gun was indeed loaded and she pointed it to her forehead.

But she couldn't pull the trigger.
She just sat there, shaking.

Get it over with, you idiot.
I can't do it.
Why is this so hard? You'd just be going ahead to rid the world of something it doesn't need.

She had a finger on the trigger. All she needed to do was pull it back.
She tried things like counting down but it didn't work.
So she devised a way to force herself to do it. If she could make some sort of noise that would garner attention, she would have no choice because her opportunity would go by really fast.

She pointed the gun elsewhere with her right arm and shot it. The sound was deafening and her ears hurt. She couldn't even hear herself scream. She felt pain from the recoil in that hand, dropped the gun and she lost her balance.

The seeming deafness wasn't going soon and she was a bit bewildered. But she had this determination and the window of opportunity was closing.

After several attempts to find the gun, she saw it and that spawned a couple of other attempts to actually grab it successfully. When she did, she pointed it to herself, with both hands this time. She didn't have togetherness to actually aim but pointing it at herself seemed enough.

And she pulled the trigger.