He threw me on the bed among the twisted blankets.
“Clean yourself up,” he snarled before slamming the door.
I simply laid there for the next twenty minutes and cried. I cried because I love him. I cried for the future I could have had without him. Then I just cried to try and ease the pain. I fell asleep, tears drying on my pillow. When I awoke, I knew what I had to do.
I snuck into the spare room. I’d never shot a gun before, but I knew I could handle it. I walked into the living room.
“Dear, can I talk to you for a second?” The tv snaps off.
“Talk.” He didn’t even turn around.
“Bash in my brain and make me scream with pain, then kick me once again and say we’ll never part. I know too well, I’m underneath your spell, so darling, if you smell something burning it’s my heart.”
Rising from the recliner, he bellowed, “What the hell are you talking abo…” A gunshot blast cuts him off. He falls backwards onto the coffee table. Silence.
Smiling, I place the gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.