Hank Anderson's Agony

angst pt 1

a/n

hello world, this is my first fanfic i'll ever be making probably ??

i wonder if ill finish,

probably not

well enjoy

perish

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It was a quiet night.

Too quiet in fact. 

You could hear the leaves rustling in the trees overhead. Every footstep resonating through the house, if there was any. 

Small footsteps running down the corridors, peeking their head around the corner and beaming at their father. Gone.

The house he was in, in fact, was devoid of anybody but himself. The lone man sitting at the table, a gun laying near his cold hands. The bottle of alcohol sat on the table with him, reminding him of his alcoholic tendencies. Then, the one object reminisced him back to when his son was alive. The framed photo of the young smiling boy reflected the light of the lamp beaming back up at the lonely man.

Why was he here again?

That thought echoed throughout his mind as he reached out for the weapon laying near him. He felt the cool metal on his hands as he made contact with it. They held up the gun, gripping it tightly as they placed their temple at gunpoint. The darkness swirling around him seemed to be sinking into his brain, filling it with nothing but dread. 

This is what his life has come to.

Drinking down the pain with alcohol, having the rum burn his throat as it ran down his insides. Playing games betting on his life for fun, not believing any meaning to his life anymore. Just an old man, having lost his family to a stupid fucking accident. 

He cocked the pistol, a clicking noise echoing. Then he drew his pointer finger in on the trigger, pulling in. A gunshot could be heard, followed by a body collapsing to the floor, lifeless.

...

At least that would have happened. When he fully pulled back on the trigger, nothing happened. Just sweet silence drilling into his ears. The man sighed heavily, his soul going along with it. He set the gun back down to meet the lone bottle. This seemed to continue on happening to him, life not letting the bullet come out and finally end him. It was like.. it was telling him to stay alive. Fucking bastard. His luck seemed to finally be getting to him, these moments of him not being able to shoot himself.

He got up, the chair pulling back as he walked away from the table. The darkness seemingly enveloping him into its arms, as the lamp was the only source of light for him.

This was Hank Anderson.

--

a/n

sO I HoPE ITS GOOD?????

pls,, criticize me

i need it

aNYWYAYS CYA TILL WHEN IM NOT LAZY AND I ACTUALLY UPDATE