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Wednesday, February 22, 2012

The gunshot.

She had her twenty-fifth birthday present from him. In her hands.
"It's beautiful."
She whispered to herself for he wasn't around. He'd been in a hurry, he had some work which needed finishing. But he'd come, and kept his promise, kissed her on the forehead and said, "Happy Birthday Baby" before rushing off.
She traced her fingers along it's length. The cool, hard metal surface. She'd imagine it for over a decade now - but that imagination didn't come close to the actual feel of holding it in her hand.
"Hello. You've reached the voicemail. After the beep, you know what to do."
"Hey.. I came back but you weren't home. I thought we were doing dinner together? Eitherway, have a great day."
She had him tied up. The smirk had left his face. For once in her life, the fear resided in his eyes not hers. He did the begging and pleading. She didn't bother to respond, just laughed in her head. How must it feel, she wondered, for him to know that his life lay in her hands? One shot and he'd be gone. Wiped off the face of this earth.
They were in a cave full of mice and as he mumbled something she did not bother to hear, she glanced around at the bottle of scotch she'd brought with her. That had been a present too. But today she didn't need it. Today she didn't need anything else. Just that gun in her hand and the resolve in her head.
"Any last words?"
She didn't know why she even asked. For his words were an incoherent jumble she couldn't decipher. She could hear the unplayed music in her head as she fired the shot, right through the head. Her last thoughts to herself were, "Happy Birthday to me."
They discovered the bodies days later. He was in a bad shape, though he was still breathing. His misery was more due to the mice who had been chewing him alive than anything else. As for her, she lay in her own pool of blood, a smile upon her face, radiant in her death. The mice hadn't so much as edged near her body, all clad in white, with smears of red splashed on it now for nothing could scar her now. She was safe.
And as they buried her by the sea-side for she loved water and has always wanted that, he kept all his promises once more. He wore black, he brought a date and he sang.
The epitaph did finally read:
I just need you to be able to tell people I was here. I laughed, I smiled, I sang, I felt, I lived and I loved as much as I could, while I could. And that the person that I loved, was you.
(8th July 19xx - 21st July 20xy)

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