Soon he will be freeA Story by Foster LI’m alone in an empty room, an empty chair my only company. There are mirrors covering every wall, ceiling and floor. I spin in circles, starring at myself. But the reflection isn’t my own, instead it’s him. His eyes are wide disks full of horror. What is he- am I so scarred of? What could possibly be that wicked? I feel his pain, excruciating pain running through his veins like electricity. How does he live with this burn? He can’t for much longer, but he won’t. Soon he will be rid of all the agony, all the silent tears and nightmares. Soon he will be free. I see him, sitting in that chair. His eyes are so sad. He holds the gun with such caution, such fear. I kneel before him, throw my head down on his knees and cry, scream, beg. He doesn’t even flinch. I grab the gun. He holds it so tight in his fist his knuckles are white. I try desperately to pry it from his grasp, to no avail. This can’t be happening, this isn’t happening. He stares at his reflection in the mirror; sees his miserable eyes staring back at him. I see them too. Desperation sinks into every crevice, every corner of my body. I have to do something. Taking his face in my hands, I brush away the single tear that falls from his closed eyes. His pleading brown eyes hold my gaze, yet he looks right through me. I know it’s hopeless. He slowly, painstakingly slowly, brings his fist up. His hand is shaking uncontrollably. The gun rests delicately against the skin of his temple. My hand raises, stopping inches from his chest. No, I think, no no no. I give the slightest shake of my head. He lets out one final, shaky breath. And then he pulls the trigger. I scream. © 2016 Foster LReviews
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1 Review Added on April 1, 2016 Last Updated on April 1, 2016 AuthorFoster LAlberta, CanadaAboutI'm a 16 year old girl who loves writing for pleasure. I've never done anything with my writing but love any constructive criticism, comments, ideas or anything else you'd like to share with me! :) more..Writing
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