Bullet into the Abyss

I never felt the bullet hit my skin. Blood ran orange. A gaping, black hole was the abyss inside me. My shirt was soaked, but I didn't notice. My mind was gone, lost in chaos. Today was supposed to be another normal, boring day, and then it wasn't. And the bullet struck home.

I knew I was burying myself alive. I had dug myself in deep. I was afraid to take chances, break this shell, and I was afraid to let go. I held on to the threads of my life, protecting my family because who would protect them when I was gone? I couldn't leave, and in doing so, I accepted certain death. I would live the boring, quiet life far from the dreams I held for this world, and this was not the life meant for me. It was too late. I was six feet deep.

I was just another lost ghost in the crowd, wandering endlessly. Only a few had certain destinations, but the rest have no clue. We just wanted to be left alone, left alone to dream and to think. We wanted to live quietly without burden, but this world was always breaking us down. And some cannot handle the pressure. They just -- Snap.

I was sitting there, lost in thought. People came and went. Nobody cared. I was just a shell occupying space, and nobody asked me how I felt. I wasn't alone. He sat pretty close, and then in a calm voice, he said, "Move over." But I refused.

Life became a blur after that. People were running and screaming. My mind tried to make sense of all the sudden chaos, but it tripped in panic mode, drawing a blank. Someone fell down right in front of me, and the man calmly rose with a silver gun in hand. And he said, "I asked you to move over."

I had no words for him. I merely held his stare as he walked away. He walked like someone that had just bought a newspaper or walked their dog. He bore no resemblance to a mad man, a serial killer, or maybe I was wrong. Weren't serial killers posed as normal people, waiting to bait us, and pull the switch, or in this case, the trigger? His face held no expression as the sirens grew louder. He was not afraid unlike those that cowered in fear, but I remained sitting where I was, unaware of a cool trickle dripping down my leg.

The cops came soon enough. They led him to the parked squad car, and he laughed like he heard some great, big joke. He winked at me, and then the door slammed in his face. He tried to look at me as my hand rubbed against my stomach, and then I realized that my shirt was soaked. A pool of red circled around my shoes, and my fingertips were stained with life.

With the last of my strength, I rose to my feet. I nearly fell over but managed to move over to a large, oak tree. This where I lifted up my shirt. My stomach was painted orange. A large, black hole kissed the air on the left side of my skin, the abyss inside me. Panic and fear escaped through a grit of teeth, but relief was the cool sweat running down my back.

I thought I buried myself alive. I thought I was living the normal, boring life. I did not want to leave this small town behind. I could not leave my family. Who would protect them when I was gone? It's not too late after all, and I fell into a medic's arms. I was saved, but the irony was lost on the insane man now locked between four walls. It was time, time to leave, time to let go, and time to live because there was still life left inside of me. And I was no longer swallowed whole by the abyss.