For every moment of every day I have questioned what death tastes like. I close my eyes, envision the blood pouring down my spine. Where will I go when earth no longer supports me?
I have waited for this moment, so long. Waited for ripened opportunity to turn the bend and meet me. And now it has. My thumb slips back on the trigger. My memory flashes back to the day I bought the gun. Only two weeks ago, I stood among the cases and cases of shinning death, making my last decisions carefully. More pain, less time. Hours I stood, the young store clerk waiting, waiting for me to leave, but there I stood, from the time the first light of dawn crept onto the open sign, from the moment until I was the last customer, alone, vague. I pull harder onto the trigger, any moment now...any moment. My memory once again has taken me back over fifteen years ago. The divorce, Jimmy's death, the war. Family picnics where I was just "Luke," not "the physo." Emily's birth, the custody case....no, I can't take it anymore. It's over. It's over. I release my thumb. Wait to die. Seconds now.....the gun is not loaded. In my utter rush to finish it all, I did not even remember to load the fucking gun. Shit. Well, there you have it. By the time I find the bullets to load the gun, someone will find out about my attempts. Damn it. Another failure in a long line of treachery. Stupid Luke. Can't do anything right. Can't even kill himself.
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