Fractured

The barrel of the gun felt cold on her temple. It was comforting, though she wasn't sure why. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. It would all be over soon. The emptiness that had swallowed her would be gone. She would be free. The hand that rested in her lap caught her eye. It was shaking. "Strange" she whispered in a voice that seemed to echo throughout the sparse hotel room. She didn't feel nervous. She was ready to surrender to oblivion, but it seemed her hand was not. It trembled in fear. She pressed the gun harder to her temple, determined not to stop, not now, she had come too far. To her surprise a tear fell from her eye. It landed, warm and wet on her hand. She hadn't realized she was crying

She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite of the bed she sat on. Tears streamed from lifeless eyes. She looked more dead than alive. The mirror was broken, creating a fractured reflection. It was the most accurate image she had seen of herself in a long time. An empty smile briefly flitted across her face, she had a lot in common with the mirror, they were both fractured beyond repair. With a sigh she looked away, she knew she was broken, she didn't need a mirror to tell her that.

Several loud thumps could be heard from the room across the dingy hall. She cocked her head and listened to the angry voices of a trailer trash couple arguing drunkenly. She envied them. She envied their passion. She envied their anger. She envied their emotion. The arguing faded from her mind as she was lost in her thoughts.

Once again her hand called for attention. It began clawing at her leg, desperately trying to cling to something. She watched it as if it was a foreign creature. The hand seemed to move on its own accord. No, she decided the hand definitely was not ready to let go. The gun grew heavy. Heaving a painful sigh she lowered it. She decided not to kill the only thing left in her that did not welcome death. A harsh, hollow laugh escaped her lips. The insanity of the whole situation was not lost on her.

She fell back on the bed laughing and crying. Tears ran down the sides of her head, across the temple the gun had been pressed against. She curled onto her side, still laughing at the absurdity of her decision. Cradling the gun to her chest, she laughed herself to sleep.

Please R&R