Shattered

I stand staring down at the person who I thought to be my friend, the only person who I believed I could trust, but they had tried to destroy me, tried to end my life, but now the shoe is on the other foot, because I am the one holding the gun.

The feeling of the cold black heavy metal feels comfortable in my hand, it's heavier than I thought it would be, but somehow it just feels right.

I curl my fingers around the trigger, testing the way it feels, the adrenaline flowing through my veins is making me feel more alive than I have ever felt; it's wrong isn't it? To feel such pleasure over holding someone at gunpoint, to feel joy knowing that you could so easily take someone's life.

Just one tiny gold bullet, that's all it takes, all I would have to do is pull the trigger and the person in front of me is dead, it would only take a second, that's all, the short amount of time for the bullet to fly through the air and pierce the person's chest, cutting their life short, ending it completely.

I can see in their eyes that they are scared, they're regretting their decision now, the decision they had made to destroy me, never in a million years did they think that it would turn back on them, that I would be the one holding the gun.

Tears are filling up in their eyes, I watch as one slowly spills over and flows down their cheek, part of me actually feels sorry for them, I want to weep with them, I even want to give them the chance to take it all back.

But that would be foolish of me, to forgive and forget, because now I am the one holding the gun, If I let them walk away, they'll come back for me, I know they will, and it won't be as easy as it was this time around.

No.

They would torture me, and I would be the one left feeling like a fool, because I didn't kill them when I had the chance.

So I won't forgive, and I certainly won't forget.

This person who I once called my friend has destroyed me, completely ruined my life, I am going to be left having nightmares, wishing I could make it all stop.

So I have to kill them now, so that I can live with some peace, so that I know they will never bother me again, they can never hurt me again, just squeeze the trigger and it's all over.

I can hear my heart pounding in my eardrums, my hand shakes slightly as I bring my other hand up to help me steady the gun, both hands are now wrapped around the cold black metal, my feet at shoulder width apart.

The perfect stance right? This is how the police stand when they're trying to stop somebody from doing something, Both hands on the gun, feet shoulder width apart, I wonder if their hearts race as fast as mine is right now, I wonder if they feel the power that I am feeling right now.

Their eyes lock on mine, almost pleading with me not to do it, like they're trying to talk to me without actually being verbal.

I shake my head and pull the trigger, their eyes widen for a split second as the gun goes off, the bullet colliding with the mirror, shards of glass shattering to the ground as I fall to the floor, the gun leaving my hand as I go down.

My ears are ringing, it sounds like an alarm is going off in my ears, I turn my head to the side in a daze and see the shards of glass scattered across the floor, I push myself up into a sitting position picking up one of the larger pieces.

I see her there again, staring at me pleading with me not to kill her, but this time she is crying, tears staining her cheeks, as she realises that she couldn't do it.

She could pull the trigger on her reflection but she could never do it to herself.

She wants to die, she knows that much is true.

But she refuses to give them the satisfaction.

She refuses to give up.

Yes they had destroyed her.

They had ruined her life.

But she is going to pick herself back up.

Because no way is she going down without a fight.