Folding Half of the Stars

As I open up my eyes the light floods in like hell had just opened up. My shirts on the floor and my body is warm. All I see is four lights in front of me. My arm is throbbing and my veins are flowing. As my vision becomes clear I notice I'm in a bathroom, where the location was, I could not recall. I felt to see why my arm was throbbing, and notice my veins were pulsing and fighting to escape my arm. I forgot to untie my belt, as I did the blood rushed out. I found my syringe and knew that I went under again. My memory flooded with the day 6 months ago.

 

             There I was, sitting with her in my arms, begging for her to stay with me. Why was I leaving? I wasn't, she was. I guess "two" was too much to bear. I  could feel my hear sinking, my body failing, I needed something to sooth my pain.

 

She has already moved on from me. I am nothing but a past memory, left for dead. I managed to get myself off the floor. I cleaned the blood up and cleaned the bathroom. I still had no idea where I was or what was going on. I panned the room one last time and found "two" things that caught my attention. A gun, a black 9mm pistol, and a note. I picked up the note and read what it said.

 

           "April 13th, 1969,

                                        I can't stand my self anymore. It's no ones fault but myself. I'm done with it all. I'm not a bad person, I just can't deal with myself anymore. All I do is ruin people's lives. I don't know if this will be the last time anyone hears from me. Yes SUICIDE. But what's the worst that can happen? No one will care. I know I won't. I LOVE YOU. Everyone who I'm going to leave behind, I'm sorry for not saying goodbye to any of you, but I can't deal with it. I'm never going to learn, and I'd rather go at my own expense and my time then somebody else taking my life.

              Love,

              ----- ------ --- --

 

                 Lies Expectations Silence."

 

Was I planning on killing myself? I have no reason to, my body feels good. I have energy, but a stern hatred. For who though? What do I keep blacking out in my head. Then it hit me, so sudden. I remembered what I was missing.

 

             "Two" months after the departure of my heart. She's back with the same cretin that killed me the first time. So much hatred, so much hatred so much rage, anger, everything. I need to f**k s***s, I need to leave the marks on my arms. That will soothe the pain I know it will.

 

I spun out of control, I left the bathroom as a new demon. Anger flaming in my eyes. Cold steel in my hands and one destination. I knew where she was, and him too. So my drug infused mind told me where to go. I started walking of the house and down the street. Faster and faster. There it was my destination. The final judgement and resting point. The things, the demons that kept me up at night were to be vanquished. I knocked only "two" times.  lady answered and let me in. I walked up the stairs and took a right down the hallway. Stopped and stared at the door. I could hear the sounds of sex emitting from the room. Her moans, her pleasure, which used to be mine. I kicked the door open, and she flew off of him. They stared at me in horror as I pointed the gun. First shot straight in his head. The blood splattered onto the wall, and she screamed in terror. Crying, begging me to stop. To forgive her. There is no forgiveness for torture. Second shot, straight to the head. The "two" of them laying lifeless was so romantic. I left the house, I didn't run, I walked. Kept my head down and waited for the sirens, I saw the lights first, then the screams to drop my weapon and get down. I had no intention of living. So I put the gun to my head and prayed to the god I didn't believe in. I pulled the trigger.

 

                                       I guess only "two" shots worked that night.

Author's Note

If you like this, I'll post more.

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[Brian Steven Erb Jr.]

Also, it is meant to be vague and short. If some stuff doesn't actually add up, it's because it's the way it's meant to be written.