Still Holding On (Jenlisa)

Chapter 22

Lisa's POV

It was strange to me as I held it in my shaking hands.

I wasn't afraid, I had just never been so aware of its weight and texture. The black polymer grip felt cold against the skin of my palms. It was two pounds of absolute and certain finality.

I looked down the barrel. There wasn't a light at the end of this tunnel. It was dark. It promised peace. It promised quiet. I picked up the magazine. I only needed one round. I figured a hollow point would do the trick. I slid the magazine into its seat and let out a breath as I heard it click into place. The sound was almost deafening. If I was being honest, I left relieved. The sound continued to ring in my ears, a lullaby of sorts.

I sat the .45 caliber pistol down on the desk and picked up a pen. This was what it had come to for me. I could not find an ounce of strength inside my shattered heart to continue this empty journey. Life was never meant to be an arduous task. At least I never thought so. I pressed the ball of the pen onto the crisp white paper. I knew that I was about to leave in the most dishonest way possible. The note would be all that I would leave behind. I started to write. The words wouldn't matter. They would simply be a series of letters and spaces accented by punctuation. They meant nothing. Maybe they would bring her comfort, maybe they wouldn't.

In a little while, it was simply not going to matter to me anymore. I wouldn't have to endure the consequences of the choice that I had made. She would though, and so would they.

She refused to leave my side. It didn't matter what I said to her, and I did say some horrible things, she continued to stay. I tried to push her away but she didn't budge. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her hate me.

Once we had buried my father, I was able to escape her close supervision. Jin needed her and just like a good wife, she was there for him. What if I needed her? What if she could stop me from doing what I was about to do? What then? Would I stop hurting? Probably not. This seemed to be the only logical choice. I had no fight left in me.

I was close to my dad. Without him, I had no one to guide me. He understood me when no one else did. He was the reason that I was still here. It was ironic that he was going to be the reason that I wouldn't be. He accepted me the way I was and never made me feel bad about myself. It was hard for me when I was younger. I lost myself in the industry. He pulled me back and reminded me who I was. He didn't ask me to be perfect, he just asked me to try. He knew I would fail some times and he was okay with it. He always believed in me. Even when I was absolutely broken. He bought every record I ever made and when I told him I wanted to quit, he made sure that I knew it was okay. It was okay to walk away. It was okay to disappoint the millions of people that loved me. I had to do what was best for me. He would be proud no matter what.

I lost all of that when we buried him today. My children would never know him and he would never know them. There was no point of any of it anymore.

I got up and picked up my backpack. I placed the pistol and several towels inside and zipped it up. The towels were intended to lessen the mess. I didn't want to leave any stains. I wasn't going to do it in the house either. I couldn't do that to my mother. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and exited my room. I slowly walked down the stairs. I didn't want to draw any attention towards myself.

Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky. Jennie spotted me. As soon as her eyes narrowed, I knew she was wondering about the backpack. I mentally facepalmed when I heard her stomping after me.

"Lisa!" She said loudly.

"Jennie, for the love of God! Leave me alone!" I said angrily.

"What's in the bag?"