Death

He sat with a gun sitting on the table, all the chambers filled, no hope, no luck, no chance out. He sat slouched in his chair, sadness weighing his body down and there was no chance out. He had looked, each and every day for the last four years he looked, but found nothing but the path he walked now, no fork, nothing. He thought of all that had happened, all the friends, the failed loves, the success that life offered him-it was all there. Yet he could not reach it, his hands were bound while he stayed here, and there was no escape. He thought of his parents, sleeping upstairs quietly, his father snoring through the night like an ox. How appropriate he thought, that such a terrible man, such an ignorant and brutal man to his children and his wife would be fitted with the look and manner of a creature true to his nature. No redemption could he find in that man who had beat him, no redemption for all the words, the names: worthless, lazy, stupid, ignorant, weak, ugly…no redemption for that man now or ever. And his mother, his thought dwelled most on her, for she was bitter and cruel as well, but it wasn’t her fault. She had been beaten for years by the man she loved, and where to vent? Where to get rid of all the anger and the tears and the sadness and the feelings of worthlessness. Yet no reason justified her bitter insults, her constant nagging, her belittlement, and no reason justified her not standing by him when he was right. He laughed for a moment, a silent hushed laugh that was filled with tears. Two abominations had raised him and all he knew was how to be good and decent and he couldn’t understand why everyone hated him. All he had done was fight to have a future, to learn, to know, to grow so that he could finally be seen by his parents as someone who they admired. And instead, they had insulted his grand accomplishments for they knew it was the only way to keep him from believing in himself, and they were right. They insulted him as he kept silent of the maltreatment, as he defended them from others, but he had lost, and could fight no more. He had no faith, no hope, not a shred of dignity or self-respect. He hated himself, he hated all he had become and wished to be something else. And there wasn’t anything he could do now. He knew now he had but one chance, one way to do things and there was no escaping it. This was all he had left to him, for all that was good in him would never live if the evil that lurked around corner wasn’t set straight…and he had become corrupt. He needed out, he needed to get away. And there it sat, a bullet in every chamber, no chance of escape, no chance at all. He looked up to the heavens beyond the room and pleaded with his silence that God would forgive him, for he knew that his father was wrong about that, too. Someone HAD to be watching, it was all he left to believe in, for he had lost all other faith. He looked down at the gun, it was time to disappear from the world and he would not go alone. A gun shot rang out through the night and a single scream…

They never found him again. I knew they wouldn’t. A man does not return to a place like this after what he did, or after what it did to him. The coroner said that his father never had a chance, no escape….and none but me understood why.