Last Moments: The Actions of Suicide
Posted By: Aleks G.<email@example.com>
Date: 6 August 2007, 9:26 pm
"That's the last straw..."
He glared at his girlfriend, who just became his ex-girlfriend.
"I dont need to take this from you anymore."
He threw down his military supply pack and tossed his camouflage hat to the dirt.
"I come back from 2 months of fighting those covenant bastards in a distant galaxy...and this is how she thanks me? By sleeping with my best friend Richard? I'll show all of them...they'll all see what happens when you push me over the edge i was already falling off of."
He stormed out of his ex's apartment. His ex chased after him down the long hallway apologizing and attempting to cry, he just raised his hand as a sign for 'stop' and toned her out. She screamed at him,
"I'm sorry, you were gone for so long, I thought you were dead!"
"Oh I'm sorry..." He mocked her in his mind "...ill never do it again...blah blah blah....you cross me...and you cant apologize enough to get my forgiveness."
For the sake of not having to listen to his ex try to apologize even more, he decided to skip the elevator and walked stiffly to the stairs. Violently, he forced the door open and stiffly trudged down the stairs, his ex paused at the top step, but she continued to cry.
"I'm not sorry...I'm not sorry for walking away you bitch...you made the mistake of lying to my friend...telling him we weren't dating so you could sleep with him...youre the last person to screw me over, I'll make sure of it..."
He stepped down the last step of the long staircase and walked outside, the sunlight burned his eyes and the childrens laughter made his ears pop, he pushed his way through a small crowd forming on the street corner, completely ignoring them, and the traffic that nearly hit him, and got in his small Ford Iosis. He turned the key a little harder than he was supposed to, and listened to the small hydrogen powerplant hum to life. The tires squealed as the he put his foot to the floor, leaving black stripes on the plastic composite street. He just drove blindly, he had been on this road so many times, he could've closed his eyes and made it perfectly. His home was only a few miles down the road, just out of town. He nearly hit an old lady walking her dog along the side of the road, he didnt even look back, he just pushed the pedal harder, making the engine roar. When he got home, he ignored his neighbor's friendly wave and slammed the screen door behind him.
He ripped the keys from his pocket and fumbled with the ring until he found the right key. A tiny little tube-key that was extremely hard to pick or forge because of its complex design. He held onto the key as he ripped off his olive green camo jacket, and slipped his heavy-duty boots off. Looking up he noticed that his light was still broken,
"Oh well, its not going to be my problem soon..."
He went into his room and opened the closet, where a large case sat, completely alone in a large empty closet. He stuck the key in to the little reciever in the side of a black steel cabinet. The lock clicked as it released and the 4 foot high door popped open. Inside, a small collection of rifles on a vertical rack and a hanger with 4 different pistols.
"The Desert Eagle...that'll work."
He pulled the heavy chrome handgun off of its holder, used the same key to remove the trigger lock, and carried the gun to his living room.
He looked at the side of the Desert Eagle. It would be the last thing he would ever see, and he took his last moments to examine every detail of the tool of his destruction. The little scratch on the hand-grip, the small fraction of a greasy fingerprint on the magazine release, and the writing printed into the slide with a laser that read: Desert Eagle, Magnum Research Facilities. .357 Caliber Semi-Automatic. He gripped the back of the slide between his thumb and fore-finger and pulled it back, the gun parted at the middle, and he watched as a new round was released from the magazine and allowed to slide up into the chamber. He released the slide and it jumped forward and clicked loudly. He then tilted the gun on it's side and thumbed the safety switch into firing position.
"This is it...I hope you're all happy..."
He swept the barrel of the gun towards him, watching as the chrome plating reflected a mirrored and distorted image of himself on the side of the long gun. He brought it up so he could look down the barrel, he could see the riflings on the inside, 6 riflings with a right-hand twist, no wonder the gun always jerked to the left. Beyond that he could see a very tiny brass glint, the point of the bullet, the end to all this pain. He pulled the gun away and swapped it to his left hand, where he then proceeded to push the barrel into his temple.
"I'm sorry...I wish it didn't have to end like this..."