Being a twin in an overpopulated world

The last part

Chucks eyes began to sting again as he recalled the moments of that day, then he cried himself to a miserable sleep. While he slept he couldn't stop thinking about the face that it was his fault that his brother was dead. It was his fault that he was in this situation at all. He wished it was him that had died.

Chuck was walking on a tall glass wall, the finish line and the ground unable to be seen. He just had to keep walking. And walking. And walking. That would now be his life. A repeating circuit of running. In the end he would be killed, there was no way he could survive. What was the point.

Ahead, on the wall he could see a pistol, the one used to shoot his brother. It was balancing on the wall, then it started to fall. Chuck jogged along the wall to catch it and when he did, the cold, heavy handle felt right in his hand. He bleeds the salt of his soul and as it poured from his eyes while he clenched the gun. He saw the darkness that he knew would soon swallow him and he feared it, longed for it, took it.

He closed his eyes gracefully and remembered all the happy memories he had in his life all the good things he had coming, and he saw his brother. Standing there with him. Holding the gun firm around Chucks hand. He raised it to Chuck's head. Then pulled the trigger.