B*****d

very short story

He shot.
He didn't hesitate for one second.
I fell. My eyes falling upon hot sand.
My last vision would be this range and yet, until the very last moment I didn't think he'd do it.
My murderer was not a stranger, he knew everything about me.
He knew that for 40 years, my life had alternated between the very best and very worst.
He also knew of all the evil I had ever committed and regretted.
He knew me better than I knew myself.
In fact, if he'd thought for one split second of my children or my family, I'm sure he wouldn't have pulled that trigger.
But the b*****d was so cold.
He decided to ignore everything and simply kill me.
To eliminate me was his only goal.
Nothing could hinder him, especially not emotion or feeling.
I now see my own blood upon the sand. My life escaping me.
I am empty of strength, my body failing and my life force gone.
It's all over. My machine has stopped and the air no longer enters my carcass.
The name of my assassin?
Who was this perverse piece of s**t who was able to perform this irretrievable act?
Me!
Yes, it was me who fired that gun.

The end

Editor Marisa Raoul