The sound of his voice lingers, so deep and penetrating. He's angry with me and behind the hurt in his eyes I can perceive his hatred for me, it burns like a fire, blazing wildly behind the pain. I want to proclaim my love for him, but my voice is absent, perhaps somewhere searching for my mind which has also abandoned me in my moment of dismay.
The sound of his gun resembles the sound of glass shattering against wooden floor, but in this scenario it's my heart being broken into pieces. I deserve it, I deserve to die. But, he doesn't deserve to live with the guilt of pulling the trigger. My voice finally decides to return back home and I mutter the words I love you, before my body falls to the ground and darkness seems to be the only thing willing to welcome me.
