Two Bullets

Introduction

I reached out my hand, a feeble attempt at catching sunlight between my fingers. For just this one moment, I was grateful the others weren't around to watch me stand here like a fool, falling back to a game every bored child had played at one time or another, to try and cure a momentary lapse of utter loneliness.
Perhaps I hoped this warmth would feel like someone holding my hand, or perhaps I was hoping that this darkness inside of me was merely a temporary lapse of judgement, and could be cured with some sunlight. My parents were insistent enough that some vitamin D could preform wonders on the human psyche, 'what else could you possibly need, boy?'.

Many years ago, this would have soothed me, at least to a certain extent. The gentle burning of a warmth unmatched, almost like a sweet injection of happiness, lovingly caressing your skin.
But even that gesture felt empty, like the sunrays no longer danced atop of my skin, but instead slipped between my fingers. Almost mocking me for my attempt, with every flick of my wrist and turn of my hand, the light stayed, but my heart felt no more filled. Instead, the light faded, and so did my patience. My fingers tensed and my hand balled into a fist, rapidly slamming itself into the brick by my side. My lungs forced out a frustrated and pained groan.

There it was again, that familiar warm and red feeling on my knuckles. That familiar full feeling inside of my chest, like my heart was screaming to be let out, begging to feel a release. My mind wanted nothing more than to scream, to let them hear my pain. Hoping that it would echo, that they would never be able to let that sound go, a scream so vicious bouncing between the ruins of the old city. A sound that they would carry with them until their last day, as I have.
But it was a delusional hope that even if they did hear, that they would care enough to come look for me.

So here I was again. Staring out that familiar hole I once called a window. Perhaps, if I squinted I could still call it a window. I don't exactly remember what caused my former window to be torn down by the elements, but the new hole was conveniently placed in somewhat the same location.

With a bit of imagination, not much had changed about my apartment. It still felt like it represented who I was: it still felt empty and lonesome and it was still structurally falling apart. It was ransacked and incredibly dirty, some plants had started to climb their way through from the outside in, and my bathroom had never looked emptier. But it had the pretenses of a home: some furniture, albeit destroyed by the moisture, wind and other debris, still stood proudly in the living space, the basic necessities and structures, even while looking like they could fall apart with the slightest breeze, stood tall in place.

But none of that mattered. My gaze was firmly trained on the streets far below, trying to see any movement, or any sense of remorse. Perhaps a glimmer of hope? A reason to fight again?
Anything at all would have made a difference, but nothing changed.

With a deep sigh, I slung my backpack off my bad shoulder and threw it against the countertop of the open kitchen, not too far from the window. Tears started welling up in my eyes, a headache pressing into my forehead from trying to hold back the pleas for my family. Was I that unworthy? Was I truly that much of a monster, that I was worth abandoning in the middle of the night? Perhaps it had been kinder of them to kill me, or to leave me to die when I could see them walk away.

"Well, I suppose they did kill me."
I finally whispered, standing in front of the window, the sunlight shifting to gently caress my cheek. My fingers instinctively reached for the gun by my side and checked the clip. It wasn't much, but I only needed one bullet anyway. With another deep sigh, another pained grunt escaped with an ironic smile drawn onto my face.
I lifted the gun and placed the barrel against my temple and grinned. "Hope you hear it."

But it didn't feel right. It wasn't my mind that was killing me. The voice inside was awfully quiet, it wasn't there that the darkness felt thickest.
With a shaking wrist, I turned the barrel away and hit myself over the head, finally releasing that scream that had been burning at the back of my throat. Before long, my lungs felt empty and so did my mind. It was all so numb, so quiet. It was almost ... peaceful? The only thing that still hurt so badly was my heart. Like the strings connecting it had been severed crudely, my heart desperately trying to reshape itself to keep beating but most of it was simply ... severed. Gone. Carved away.
It couldn't carry that hurt, no matter how hard it tried.

I closed my eyes and pressed the barrel against my chest, moving closer to that edge. If I leaned forward, perhaps I could watch that sundown on my way down. Perhaps it would feel freeing, closing my eyes, the wind carrying me down. Perhaps that was all the company I needed. My heart ached harder, feeling my finger twitch at the trigger.
Tears now freely streamed down my cheeks. I let out another shout, but this one, seemed to come with words I couldn't comprehend myself. Just as the words appeared, so did my memory of it disappear.

I inhaled a deep sob and scrunched up my forehead, my face turning into the shadow of my apartment, before composing myself again, facing that sundown. An involuntary and agonising smile formed on my lips after the sniffing subsided. I wanted this, and I was ready. A deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Amelia."

A sharp noise. An even sharper pain.
A thump, followed by several crashing noises.
A hard surface, a deep pressure on my chest that softly oozed away.

Amelia.
Her tiny hands cupping my stained cheeks. I opened my eyes, trying to find her before I exhaled my final breath. There she was, my gorgeous little girl, sitting in front of me, showing me that angelic smile of hers.
As my eyes fluttered close, her little fingers started digging into my cheeks. Her smiling must've turned into crying, because when the darkness finally closed in, all I could hear was her terrorised screaming. But it was so distant.
I reached my hand weakly up for her, silence, a gentle warmth touching my fingertips, before I finally collapsed.