If You Are Reading This, I Am Dead.
Wishful Thinking
"It's June 24th, school is almost out for this year.."
My fingers curl around the stiff grip of my new handgun. Cold steel. Quite a contrast in comparison with the fucking hot air around my body, but I force myself to keep holding it. I lift up a finger and loop it through trigger guard, barely resting it on the trigger itself. I aim, and close my eyes.
I'm about to shoot my fucking failure of a stepfather.
Clink. I open my eyes staggeringly to sound of the bullet grazing through a can I set up to practice with.
I wish I had been about to shoot that bastard.
Oh well. At least I'm practicing with Max. His hand patting me on the back was warm, congratulatory. I wanted to tell him. I needed to tell him.
Yet, I hesitate, and hand him the gun to give him a turn.
"Just aim and shoot, shoot with your passion you have for theatre." I say.
He aims, closes his eyes, and pulls the trigger.
The bullet passes almost directly through the whole my shot made.
Shit, he's actually fucking good at this.
He looks over at me, a tad shaken from the sound of the gun, and grins. I might miss that grin one day, hell, of course I was going to miss that fucking grin one day. He's my best friend.
"Max, I want you to shoot up the school with me."
My words sounded dry. Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He looked me in the eyes, nodded, and said one word.
"Alright."
And so it was done.
"The day ended well, now I have Max on my side."
My fingers curl around the stiff grip of my new handgun. Cold steel. Quite a contrast in comparison with the fucking hot air around my body, but I force myself to keep holding it. I lift up a finger and loop it through trigger guard, barely resting it on the trigger itself. I aim, and close my eyes.
I'm about to shoot my fucking failure of a stepfather.
Clink. I open my eyes staggeringly to sound of the bullet grazing through a can I set up to practice with.
I wish I had been about to shoot that bastard.
Oh well. At least I'm practicing with Max. His hand patting me on the back was warm, congratulatory. I wanted to tell him. I needed to tell him.
Yet, I hesitate, and hand him the gun to give him a turn.
"Just aim and shoot, shoot with your passion you have for theatre." I say.
He aims, closes his eyes, and pulls the trigger.
The bullet passes almost directly through the whole my shot made.
Shit, he's actually fucking good at this.
He looks over at me, a tad shaken from the sound of the gun, and grins. I might miss that grin one day, hell, of course I was going to miss that fucking grin one day. He's my best friend.
"Max, I want you to shoot up the school with me."
My words sounded dry. Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He looked me in the eyes, nodded, and said one word.
"Alright."
And so it was done.
"The day ended well, now I have Max on my side."
♠ ♠ ♠
Poor Danny, dreams don't always immediately come true. Although, I do wonder why Max was so quick to say yes... Do I dare write more? Please, give me feedback, I really do want to keep this story going and genuinely appreciate advice and suggestions.