I would have killed myself at that time. I would have killed myself and killed them both at the same time. From that point onwards the gun I was holding heated up in my grip like meat on grill struggling to calm the offended nerves. The moaning and the betrayal became apparent that everything in life would end at that particular moment. All the hardships I endured in the past do not equate to the anguish and sorrow that I felt. There was only the intention to kill and be killed. This downfall would be my last.
Badly shook up I bent my elbow and lifted my arm up to aim the pistol at them both. Tears which for years did not show up suddenly had the audacity to surprise me at the last minute. It was time to end it all right then and there.
I fired the gun instantly killing the perpetrator and my best friend. My aim wanders across the room dazed by the disbelief of having to bear the truth and pain brought on by the situation. Shrieking in horror, she immediately pulls away his lifeless shaft from her cunt, cowers beneath the sheets begging and weeping all bloodied up from the spray of life juice leaking from the corner of the left ear. My heart was pounding endlessly, an overbearing ecstatic emotion that engulfed my newfound nihilism. She cried for mercy, the pistol at hand still burning up with desire for violence. I fired a shot at the ceiling just to calm my senses, my lips were already tightly sealed. No words can comfort what was left of any rational choice. Her breasts dongle behind the curtains where she sticks, those which were once my own property but now wasted, expendable, and rubbish. Her face was hideous by the smeared makeup all over, sobbing, wailing and all pathetic.
I had to fire the pistol. It was mandatory and to not do it would only increase the guilt that was already abundant. But love, as terrible as any definition one could come up in relation to the word, overcompensated, and I would have her at least to be with my side through the thickest fog or the thinnest line. Sensing the will to improvise, I grabbed the scissor conveniently lying in the corner, came to her steadily as she struggles to break away. The strength discrepancy was fairly obvious. It was just meant to be.
I stabbed her in the back of the neck on the spine.
She crawls in desperation towards the door to run away but collapsed three seconds later.
Three weeks later she woke up in the same bed she fornicated with all dressed up and taken care of with me by her side. A smile was all that I could muster. She smiled in return and closed her eyes once more to rest.
We were never separate ever again until the day we died.