Guns For Hire (R J MacCready)

Death

In all of the horrible years that had been spent wishing I'd never been born into this cruel world, opportunities to slip away forever had never been close enough to grasp. Not a single moment had ever let me come close to the escape I craved with all of my being.
So when this opportunity was staring me in the face, I became frozen, stuck in a state of shock.

The world has a dark and twisted sense of humour.

The moment was nye, and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to go through with it.

Death.

Yes. Death. That's what awaits me, creeping ever closer with every abominable day that passes, but it will never be feared. I've experienced death with every day in life. Death isn't a stranger, but the mere comforting promise of peace. I long to be welcomed in by its warm embrace.

The clock seemed to tick, the cruelty in the world as evident as the pain I could feel kicking at every crevice of my body. It was the things such as this that reminded me once again that death had selfishly refused to take me. Turned its back on me.

Staying here means life goes on, so I must go to die.

Blood surrounds me, the sickly sweet smell of home.

If you want to die, you must go now. The only chance you'll get has struck, slipping away with every tick, tick, tick.

You're going to lose it. You must go. You can't give it up, not now. You're almost there, almost there, almost dead.

Finally, the clock has run out.

You're going home.