METANOIA

BULLET

The rain was incredible. Considering the overwhelming heat until then, it seemed really out of place. The heat that would have melted asphalt was gone, replaced with a phenomenal lightning storm. Barry thought again how much he hated the rain, hated everything about it.

Barry stayed in the car as the rain sluiced down the windshield, blurred his vision, drawing a curtain of obscurity around him. He was sobbing uncontrollably.

His entire life had been changed in a span of five minutes. It was unfair how you could bury a lifetime of good deeds with a single act. His shame clenched his heart. The ringing in his ears was unbearable.

He once was a good man, a great man.

Now...

He was a killer, a mass murderer.

He had crossed an invisible line of no return.

He didn't know what to do. Even Seth had abandoned him.

The drugs in his system made it hard to think, even harder to focus. His mind bounced between, fear, shame, panic, regret, pain and a damning sense of worthlessness.

He wanted a sign, if he was the chosen one, he needed a sign. He screamed as he rattled the steering wheel of his car. It was an ungodly howl that shredded the inside of his throat.

"FUCK!"

His tears mimicked the rain on the windows, blurring his vision.

Lucy turned to him and asked matter-of-factly, "Why not end it then? You have the gun."

As Barry looked at his ember eyes, his form darkened and became more spectral as his entire body was covered in a pitch black smoke, reflecting the darkness now inside Barry.

Hopelessness. Remember what I said about hope? Well, hopelessness is far worse. It is the darkest corner of our souls to be stuck in. Our world collapses on itself, and a circular rumination that drains our value. You can be the wisest person, but when hope abandons you, none of what you know will matter. In that moment, it's what you feel that steers the wheel. That feeling of not being enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not good enough... not being enough for anything becomes the only thing we can think of. Most people, in that instance, find themselves asking one question. "Do I stretch this out for one more day?" When the time comes and the answer is no, and we decide to end it, that is the moment when we feel control over our lives, for the first time through our hopelessness.

Barry had lost all hope. He was in the darkness of choicelessness. He felt he had run out of time.

"You think I should kill myself?" Barry trembled in fear. He wasn't sure if the question was directed at Lucy or himself.

Lucy matter-of-factly said, "Don't you think you deserve it?"

Barry looked at the gun in his hand. His hand was trembling; he had to steady the gun with both hands. He started raising the gun toward his face.

Buddy jumped up in shock, "Whoa, man; what do you think you are doing?"

Barry looked at him, half expecting him to say something profound to stop him from ending his life.

Buddy's giant eyes beamed back with a smile.

"Do it outside the car; you'll mess up the interior."

Barry felt the disappointment wrap its arms around him and pull him down a bottomless pit. It was as if a giant fist was dragging him down to hell.

He looked at the gun in his hand through the blur of his tears.