The Run

110

I can't believe what I just did.

I was lost. I couldn't see anything but my anger, dark red spots troubling my sight. And she was the only thing I could hold on to. So I held on. I held on strong. And I couldn't stop.

I could feel her pulse under my fingers, pumping slower and slower as each second passed. And I wished I didn't have to do this, I really wished I didn't. But she deserved it. It was all her fault. Why did she have to snoop anyway? I wasn't treating her badly. I was feeding her, offering her a roof above her head every night. Granted, she couldn't leave my side... but she didn't have it so bad. She could've just waited until I reached my fucking goal, and she would have been safe, saved. She could have gone on with her life, could have forgotten about me in the blink of an eye. But she chose to complicate things. She always did. Why did she do that? Why? Why did I do that?

"Joshua..." she whispered, so faintly I almost mistook it for just a sigh. And my reflex was to tighten my grip on the soft skin of her throat. Only when I saw her eyes bulge out, only when I felt the wetness of her tears running down my hand, only then did I let go.

She fell to her knees, holding her chest, gasping for the air I had ridden her of, and I stepped back, unable to breathe myself but for another reason. My back hit the wall behind me, and I let myself slide down to the ground, my eyes not leaving her frail body.

I watched her as she took a few more gulps of air, trying to calm her sobs that didn't help her breathe normally. My hands were shaking, I could feel them even though I couldn't stand to look at them. These awful hands. These killing hands.

I hate myself, I remember thinking then, as she slowly calmed down. She was still on her knees, looking down, hands on her chest, and I could see red marks in the shape of my fingers on her throat. I watched her, nauseous, disgusted with myself, and I opened my mouth to... I don't know, apologize maybe? Can you apologize for trying to strangle someone to death? Is that even excusable?

But then I saw her eyes. I saw them directed towards my bag, still on the floor... and I knew she was reaching for the gun inside, the gun that was poking out of it since she let it go to read my fucking letters to you, bro.

I pushed myself to my feet in an instant, but by the time I grabbed the strap, her fingers were already closing in on the revolver. I seized her wrist, and she let out a breathless "ouch". I couldn't let her have it. I just couldn't. But seeing my fingers close around her flesh brought images of me choking her, burning my retinas in a flash, and I released her as suddenly as I caught her. She was surprised, enough to almost drop the damned thing altogether, and she looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights, but she managed to get ahold of herself, and the next thing I knew, she was pointing it at me.

I raised my hand as she stepped back, forced to stand on the bed, and I felt my lips stretch into a mad smile. "What are you gonna do, April?" I asked, raising my hands higher still, but not moving back. She stayed immobile, arms outstretched, both shaky hands carrying the gun. I could see in her eyes that she was looking for a way out of this mess. I could see the wheels turning in her brain, but it looked like she wasn't coming up with anything, so I continued.

"Are you gonna shoot me, April?" She didn't move. I shrugged, the smile on my face getting larger by the minute. "Be my guest here, girl. Shoot me. That's all we want."

She didn't respond. Carefully, she stepped back again, away from me, and got to the ground in a swift jump, leaving the bed in between our two bodies, her eyes not leaving mine.

"Come on, April," I gestured towards my chest in an invitation for her to shoot, my voice emphasizing her name like something disgusting someone would spit out. "Do it. Do it, and we'll both be free. That's what you want, isn't it? Freedom?"