Forlorn IV

. . . and then . . . . . . . . . . . .

Right then –

When she was about to put an end to everything-
When she was just ten minutes from shooting a gun she’d just bought earlier that day-
When she was about to make herself notice-
When she was about to unleash her body – her soul-
When her redemption was so very near she could almost taste it-
When everything had been properly done and all there was to do is wait-

It hit her.

It hit her, as hard as it could, right in the heart.

She lowered her head, and began to silently cry.
But she cried unlike ever before. Her deepest part, the softest part of her, slowly became her only part, her self.

She, for almost a second, wasn’t her anymore. She actually began missing the woman she used to be.
Began missing the old times. Began missing her husband, more than anything.

And yet there was plenty of things to be missed.

No more subtle, gentle caresses, she thought.
(As if there ever were)
No more ecstatic, joyful embraces.
(As if there ever were)


“Might as well save the trouble for another day, sir.
You will no longer enjoy the sunshine we enjoyed each morning. No more cups of coffee together, no more burst of bubbles.
Not anymore. They will fade. Because, one of us is going down honey.”
“And frankly—“ she mumbled, “this is no time for the weak. No time to cry.”

She wiped her tears, and slowly r e c o v e r e d.
Then, she fainted, into sleephood

. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .

The sound of a motor woke her up.
It was indeed her husband, parking the car. And in a matter of minutes, (seconds most likely),
he would be entering the house.

No matter what, there’s no turning back now.
This was it. What she had planned for, what she was determined to do. She was prepared.
She grabbed the gun, and loaded it.

The husband inserted the key in the lock

The lock cracked

He opened the door

He saw the woman

The woman slowly lifted her arms

Gun in her hands

Hands shaking, badly

Staring at him, she raised her arms

Inserted the gun in her mouth

And pulled the trigger.