not me- short story.

6 // typhoon.

the man started crying, his tears bursting when they touched the hard cement. he knew what happened to her. he knew. it wasn't right of him. why did he let his father make him do that? why didn't he sacrifice his own life for hers?

he could just remember the looks on her face when the shot fired, the blood streaking the trees and the eyes of shock from the animals around. daffodil, his best friend, hated him. the only person who was proud of him that day was his dad. his dad finally stopped it, stopped abusing and hurting him. the teasing at school finally stopped, filled with disgust and filthy rumors instead.

his life right then and there was planned out. he was going to hunt down animals. he was going to kill them with a simple stroke of his gun, a bullet and enough force. he was over, his soul, his innocence.

all thanks to one stupid decision, he would do anything to bring the small fawn back. but she was gone now.

fauna. his friends. everything.

he started sobbing, forgetting about his cigarettes and focusing on the animals he once called his closest friends.

you've been out here long enough, a voice in his head whispered, go back into the bar. you need another beer.

the man sighed, obeying his thoughts. he pressed a final cigar butt to his lips and breathed in the scent of mortality. then he walked back into the bar, where he fell into the seat again to numb the pain.

regrets no longer clogged his brain, his thoughts were as slurred as his words.

and that's how it always would be.