Enjoy The Trauma, It's On Me

Selfish Influence

             

There have always been those questions. "Gun to your head, would you choose leather or cashmere?" my old friend Alexa would ask me after she had dragged me out shopping. The second I'd say, "Leather." she would simply laugh and shake her head. No one ever expects to actually be put into that situation, the scenario alone was thought only as a dramatic teen's hyperbole. Although I'm thankful that when my time came, it was not with clothes. I never did have a great sense of style.

A tall man loomed over me as I sat fastened into a wooden chair. "Uncle, is this necessary?" I asked in dismay. "Yes. These heretics must pay and sadly, dear Sarah, you are one of them," he answered in a somber tone. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I gave him a nod. The gesture was more preparation for me than a message to him. "Okay, now choose between yourself or William. You have sixty seconds," he told me, cocking the gun. I hesitated, "William." A deafening bang from beside me. The sound of dripping blood, the whimpers of the others surrounding me. The sounds and the view of my own brother dying confirm in my mind that this is real. "Now, Alexa or Sandra." without thinking I answered, "Sandra." Gun shot. A dull thud. Despite the pang of sadness, I snickered. The small girl had fallen out of her chair. She was so clumsy, even in death. My mind subconsciously accepted, there had gone my little sister. I could almost feel my mind unraveling. A tear rolled down my cheek even though I somehow I had lost my previously mournful attitude.

"Are you a sadist?" I asked quietly, the question being for my uncle as much as myself. I felt a pain in the back of my head as he struck me. I just chuckled. "A yes would've sufficed," I stated. He, of course, ignored me. "Okay Miss Smart-Mouth, you or Alexa." he snapped as he cocked the gun. "Forty seconds." I considered living with this insane bastard holding a gun to my head or sacrificing myself. Alexa had always caused me nothing but heart ache for as long as I'd known her, using my desire to be accepted against me. Perhaps it's her turn to feel suffering? Or maybe I can feel sympathy as she had been abused at home... "Times up-" he began but I interrupted, "Myself."

I felt myself smile in synch with the bullet's collision against my skull. An ear ringing gun shot, head splitting pain. I knew that at that moment, I physically died. However I knew the sight of my sacrifice, the mere memory of it as I stared her in the eyes, would haunt Alexa forever. I, thankfully, will not be the one paying for therapy.