The barrel of the gun is pressed against my forehead. I can feel it, making an indent in the skin. I look up, past the pistol, and at his face. He looks unhappy, I note.
Sure, his face may be showing anger, but I can see the pain in his eyes. It's the same pain I feel every day, it might as well be a reflection. Except, instead of anger hiding the sadness, I let fake happiness hide it.
That's our difference.
He readjusts his grip on the gun, tightening it. He's close to shooting, I can tell.
"Any last words?" He spits out, glowering at me. He's been waiting for this moment, the moment to kill me.
And I think I've been waiting for it too...the chance to die. I didn't do anything to this man, yet he's going to kill me. I don't even know him.
Somehow..I'm okay with it. Which is an obvious sign to how broken I am.
He raises an eyebrow. Ah, I see. He wants to hear me talk, thinking my voice will betray fear. It won't. I'm calm, accepting.
I look at him, dead straight in his olive green eyes, and smile.
"Thank you."
YOU ARE READING
Delirious
Short StoryA collection of short stories. TRIGGER WARNING: Most, but not all, of these short stories deal with triggering themes such as depression, suicide, bullying, and/or eating disorders. Disclaimer: I in no way support suicide. If you or a friend is in...
