Another fight.
She thought, "I'm such a horrible person."
He thought, "I'm such a jerk."
They were both beating themselves up inside.
"I'm gonna go for a walk," he said.
"Do me a favor and don't follow me."
She cried out, "No! No! Don't leave!"
Tears were running down her cheeks.
She watched as he left the room...
...But what she hadn't seen was when he
Grabbed a gun.
The front door slammed.
She got off of the bed and ran to the door.
She opened it and saw his shadow
Slowly fading away into the darkness.
"Don't do this!" she called.
"Come back!"
He'd stopped to hear her talk
But kept walking when she was done.
She ran inside, frantically thinking about what to do.
"I have to follow him," she decided, not obeying his orders.
So she quietly opened the door
And quietly shut it.
Quietly, she walked up the driveway and onto the street.
It was dark but there were streetlights here and there,
Illuminating the road that would take her to her boyfriend,
Take her to the happiness or the sadness that would happen
In the near future.
She saw him turn the corner.
Quietly, she followed him.
He faced forward the whole time,
Never turning back.
She wanted so badly to call out to him
But instead she remained
Quiet.
He stopped walking.
She stopped too.
15 feet apart.
He took something from his shirt.
It shined in the light from one of the street lamps.
She saw with a gasp that he had a gun.
Quietly, he lifted it up to his head after cocking it.
Not wanting to be quiet anymore, she yelled out just as he was about to pull the trigger,
"NO!"
BANG!
A mistake was made.
He hadn't been shot.
She had.
At the wrong (or right) moment, he'd turned around to the sound of her voice,
Right when he pulled the trigger.
The bullet had flown towards her
Hitting her in the shoulder
Knocking her to the ground.
(No neighbors had been disturbed
For this gun had be shot quietly.)
She was alive but laid there like she was dead,
Quiet and unmoving,
Hoping that he'd come check on her.
But he'd taken her stillness to mean that
He'd killed her.
He faced away from her
And, once again, aimed the gun at his head.
He pulled the trigger.
BANG!
He was dead.
Quietly, and fearfully, the girl sat up the best that she could
Propping herself up with her good arm.
Looking there at his body, which was laying there,
Quiet and unmoving,
She knew he was dead.
She crawled over to him,
Gave him one last kiss,
Grabbed the gun,
Aimed it at her head,
Pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Now she, too, was dead.
