Ten Seconds Left

The Last Ten Seconds

Ten counts. That's all I have left. Just ten counts.

Ten.

I squeeze my eyes closed, unwilling to look at the gun aimed on my head. My heart raced inside my chest. Panic constricted my mind. Tears raced down my bruised face. My wrists struggled against the tight ropes binding them. Blood trickled down my mouth. I tried to scream, only to be silenced. I tried to run, only to be caught. I tried to live, only to die.

Nine.

I remembered all of the things I longed to accomplish. All of the things I would never accomplish. His cold eyes met mine as a grin slowly creeped up his face. He began approaching me. Terror filled my eyes. His lips came to my ear as he whispered,"It will be over soon." Goosebumps covered my body. I shivered.

Eight.

He drew away from me. I missed the life I would never get to live. Behind me, a young child sobbed. I pitied him. So young..... I wondered how this man could be so heartless. How he could take the life away from a innocent child. I was his toy for long enough, I guess he got bored of me. Time to move on to the next thing.

Seven.

It was dark down here. It smelled down here. It tasted like death down here. "Soon." I thought to myself. Soon I would be gone. It would be as if I never even existed. As if I had never been born. No one would come looking for me. No one would care what happened to me. Six months ago, I never would have dreamed that I would be where I am right now.

Six.

Halfway there. I felt hope surge to my chest. I was almost done. Done with this life. Done with with this pain. Not a day had gone by, not a hour had passed without fear. I found it strange that I invited death. I found it strange that I didn't try to fight. He had accomplished his goal. He had destroyed me. He had dug into my soul and taken my very essence. In some way, he was nothing but a thief. After all, that was what he did. He stole. He stole my life. He stole my soul. He stole my childhood.

Five.

I have always known his name. I have always feared his name. I wished that I had never been born. I wished that I never had to be with him. I saw the child crawl up to the man. He smiled at the boy and sunk down to his knees. I saw him slowly caress the child face. The boy stopped crying and looked at the man with large, curious eyes. The man's face morphed into a glare as he reached back and struck the boy across the face. The boy's sobs echoed throughout the room. An angry red hand rested upon his face.

Four.

I turned away. The man swung around and drove the butt of his gun into my jaw. Pain bolted through my body. Blood shot into my throat. I gagged. The cloth wedged in my mouth prevented the blood from exiting my lips. Soon enough, the gag began dripping the blood into my lap. I watched as a puddled began to form. I guess he didn't really care what happened to me. He had outgrown me. Now it was time to dispose of me.

Three.

I saw the man's chin quivering. I had never seen him cry. I suppose that there was some part of him, however small, hating himself for who he had become. Hating himself for what he had done. He turned his head away from me. A lonely tear treked down his sunken cheeks. He shakily raised his hand to cover his face. "Why? Why are you making me do this? Why couldn't you just have listened to me? Why couldn't you have helped me?"

Two.

I was so close. My body shook with expectation. I was ready. I was done. I slowly released a long sigh of relief. The man looked at me. He looked at me as though this was my fault. As if I had forced him to become this monster reeking of hate and anger. He was human. I sometimes forgot that. He had feelings just like me. He felt emotions. At some point in his life, he must have even had dreams; goals.

One.

His hand trembled. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and waited. I waited for my own father to shoot me. I waited for my own father to shoot me in my own basement in front of my own brother. I waited for death.

- The End