Stop Thinking {WLW}

Relieved

I just feel like I just can't take it anymore. All these struggles. Years of battling with depression and bottling up feelings and more feelings. All this weird numbness. But I should be happy, right? Shouldn't I be? My wife, next to me...ah...such a loving and beautiful woman...

Why? Why this feeling? This lingering feeling...

I have been feeling it for years. But I should be complete! All my career goals have been achieved, I have everything I've ever dreamed of! Ah, and my wife, lovely wife, lovely, lovely, lovely... Who couldn't love and want such a beautiful angel?

Sitting in bed, looking at her, my love, my dear love, sleeping peacefully, probably dreaming of something beautiful, something full of light and happiness. Her face expressing pure bliss. And here I was: an empty creature, feeling alone in this vast, seemingly pointless Universe...

I have been planning tonight for months, but actually going through with it? I shouldn't even think about it, just do it. Either way, if I won't, I'll regret it later. This is my fate, I've known this for years and I'm still so sure of it. This is the right thing to do.

But there's no light after darkness and there's no life after death. There is seemingly just nothing to live for, even when you have everything you've ever asked for. She's next to me in bed. I did have thoughts that made me feel guilty about what I had in plan, but then I realized that after my death she might as well get over me, forget about me, be someone else's. Why would I ever let this happen? We are meant to be and this has to be done this way. I remembered the day I proposed to her, how she started crying from happiness, how we got married and got announced as wife and wife. Back then, I was truly happy, but in the back of my head, as always, the never ending feeling of hopelessness, anger and numbness: sometimes prominent, other times lowkey. It doesn't feel fair, I shouldn't be like this, but it just can't be helped, no matter how much I suck it up.

Stop thinking.

It doesn't help.

I don't feel sad, no, not sad. Numb and relieved. I look at the clock on the wall next to the door: 1.46 am. Ticking. Ticking. Ticking. Not yet. I continue to look at her, admiring her beautiful pale face, her closed eyes and curly dark hair. I wish I could caress her hair just one last time, but in fear of waking her up, I decide to keep my hands to myself. Then I move my glance to her lips, which I can't even express my love to enough. Kissed them so many times, each time feeling like it is the first time. Nothing about her ever gets boring, nor about her body, nor about her personality. Her altruistic self always makes me feel like the bad guy, which she always strongly assures me I'm not. She's always kind to everyone, full of empathy and understanding, most of the time too kind for her own good. Funny, smart, always capable to make me feel better, whenever I decide to actually communicate what I'm feeling. She's strong but thinks she's weak, I'm weak but think I'm strong. She's always capable of assuming whatever she is feeling, even express it. I do the opposite. I bottle it up. I let it accumulate. I never express anything, but anger. Weirdly, though, she has always admired me and believed in me from the moment we met in high school. Well, she wasn't wrong. I did manage to become a successful person, but I still have the same issue that I've been having since then: the feelings and thoughts hidden at the back of my head.

I look at the clock again: 1.54 am. Soon. I get up, trying my best not to wake her up, then I head downstairs. I look around the house, realizing that this is the last day I'm ever going to see my home again. Today, I'm leaving. With slow steps I head down to the basement, where I'm keeping it: my 12-gauge shotgun. All is ready. I stare at it for a second: at first bought with the intention to use for defense in case someone breaks into our house, now the main tool used in my sick, sick plan. I pick it up, also some rope, and then I start to slowly go upstairs. All is quiet. Suspension. The world can't wait, it wants this. I'm sure of it.

I enter our bedroom and I immediately turn my head to where the clock is. It's 2.05 am. Quiet, only the sound of her calming breath being heard. A soothing sound. The sound of an angel sleeping. I get closer to her, wanting to caress her hair gently.

This has to be done. There is no other way. No one else will ever touch her, no one else will ever deserve her love. Only me.

Gently, I tie her hands behind her back, her legs together, trying not to wake her up. All is in order for now. For now, because one minute later I watch as she opens her eyes and looks at me confused. Not good. She shouldn't be conscious for this. At least I'll get to hear her voice one last time and her beautiful dark-brown eyes that always make my heart go crazy. One last time.

Stop thinking. It's not practical.

I grab her by the waist and pull her closer to me. A realization: unable to move freely.

"Bridget? What's going on?"

A concerned look.

"Don't worry Cara, it's nothing. All is calm."

Her glance moves from my face to the shotgun next to me, eyes widening in question and panic. It's oddly quiet. I pull her even closer to me.

"We talked about this. A long, long time ago. I believe that you remember that I had a plan like this back in high school. You know what's going on."

Panic in her eyes. 

"Why? Tell me." Cara says. "We can fix this. We really-"

"Stop it. Don't even think about fixing. We've been trying to fix this for years, it's pointless. Fate! There's no reason to fight it."

"But our future?"

"What about it? I already know what you're going to say: you want to grow old with me and continue being happy with me. Then you're going to ask me if I'm not happy with you and again I'll tell you that I'm more than happy with you, but absolutely miserable with me. We've done enough."

"But this! This! This is so sudden! I-....you-... I thought that you were fine nowadays and that's how it seemed like. That you-...Why won't you tell me this stuff?"

Tears are starting to form in her eyes. I can't bear to watch her being like this. This has to end.

"You don't deserve to suffer and worry because of my pain. Hypocritical, right? It won't hurt. It won't. It will be fast, then we will both be free. Come on! You want the same thing! The world hasn't been treating you nice either. Since when do you not want freedom?"

"I love you! I love you so much and I want to continue living with you. Seeing you everyday, feeling you everyday, talking to you everyday. I don't want it to end and I know that you don't either. Yes, people have always been treating me badly, but I have you and you have me. I'll listen to your problems, all you have to do is just tell me. I can't help you if you don't. You are extremely smart and you always manage to make me laugh even when I hit rock bottom. Making me feel better, protecting me always, you don't deserve this! Please, please, please don't! It's not worth it! Ple-"

I pull her into a warm and tight kiss. A pause. Softly I whisper:

"I love you too"

Then I start kissing her again. Her sobs are making my heart ache. This has to end. 

Why am I happy that this is happening?

I pull her in a tight embrace with my left hand and with my right hand I grab the shotgun. Thoughts are leaving my brain, every memory. This is how it should be. The day I first talked to her, the day I proposed to her, the day I married her. The hours and hours we spent talking about our future together, our plans, our goals. How happy she would be imagining success with me. She got it. I got it too, but in the end, it wasn't enough. It was all pointless.

Feeling the shotgun's barrel against the back of her head, Cara's eyes widen, our lips still touching.

Silence.

My eyes watching hers.

Darkness.

My eyes not watching hers.

Relief.