She decided that there was no point in going on. She paced back and forth through her living room stepping on shards of broken dreams. Glass frames that she threw to the ground when he left were now shattered into a thousand pieces. It was the equivalent to the number of tears she shed.

If only she could take things back. She wish she had never spoken to him. She wished that his eyes were not the beautiful blue gems that trapped her gaze and pulled her in. All of the time she had spent on him was now wasted and she could never get it back.

He said he would be back. She hoped he wasn’t lying. She loved him as much as she hated him. She wanted one last chance to look into his eyes and say goodbye forever.

She reached into her pocket and removed a key. This was not the key to her heart, but to a small metal box she kept hidden under the sofa. She removed the box and brought it close to her lips to blow the dust away from its surface. She never had any reason to open the box in the past, so it sat for three years tucked away from the world. She slid the key into the slot and turned it slowly. A soft click entered her ears and she lifted the lid.

The revolver once belonged to her father’s great grand father and was passed down the family tree. Had she not been an only child, the gun would not have been passed down to her, but to a brother. The handle was engraved with the name of each owner, hers was at the bottom. She took a quick peek into its chambers. There was only one round. That is all she would need.

She sat on the floor facing the front entrance. She waited there for her chance to say her last goodbye. As the hour went by she dozed into a dream. In this dream life was better and she was happy.

She was suddenly awaken by a jiggling door knob and a soft knocking at the front door. She rose to her feet and unlocked the deadbolt. She opened the door for him. He stood there, beer in hand and eyes as blue as the sky on a clear sunny day. She took a step back and he took a step forward.

Tears rolled down her cheeks for the last time as she said her goodbye. She raised the gun and pulled the trigger. A deafening blast filled the room for a brief moment and was followed immediately by pure silence. The smell of gun powder tainted the air. Blood poured from an open wound.

She was happy again.

  1. She sounds like a girl you don’t might not want to mess with.

    Very powerful piece of writing.

  2. Well that’s one way to stop drinking.

  3. O.o but was it him that she shot? it doesn’t say that. all it says that she was happy again, and that could be her own suicide. I love it very very good.