Just love

She sat on her squeaking chair, staring at the blank wall before her, trying to rid him from her mind. She hated the way he touched her; the way his hands slithered across her flesh. She abhorred the way his grey eyes glared into her own dark sapphire ones. She believed his lies that came spewing in a never-ending tsunami from his lips. She believed those words he spoke. That he loved her. How he missed her so terribly; wished he could talk to her more. Whenever he held her, she was at home; but at the same time there was a sharp chill that froze her down to her bones. She would bite her lips to keep her teeth from chattering. He got so...angry...Sometimes. The way he would jerk his head, staring at her, as if she was his prey. The way he would come after her, yelling, screaming; she would have tears pouring from her eyes, the tears destroying her makeup, leaving a stream of mascara running down her pale cheeks.

She stared at the 45 in her fragile, weak hand. The gun itself was a beauty; it was her great grandmothers. It was dainty, with an intricate design, comprised of emeralds and rubies, as they were placed in the form of a rose along the handle,, the vine running down the length of the gun, towards the barrel and the trigger. She stared at the gun, cocking her dead to the side.

"Ironic, isn't it..." She whispered, her breath causing the air to seem foggy.

"Just love. Is that really such a large thing to request?" She let out a staggered breath; her lungs were trying to take the oxygen in, but it wasn't reaching them. She was sick, she was going to die; and she knew it. She knew as soon as she started coughing up blood four days prior that she would not survive the winter. She didn't want to go to Doctor Howard's; he would just make her go home. She couldn't go home. He would be there; and he would haunt her; even though he already haunts her dreams.

She pressed the gun to her lips, her hands shaking, her lips quivering, and turned off the safety switch. She closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger, and fell backwards, laying there, hr eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

She turned her head to the side, her hand was there, still gripping loosely to the empty gun. She glared at the gun, as if it had betrayed her.

"How could you do-" She stopped speaking, began hacking and coughing, and sat up, her blood spewing and splattered across the white wall in front of her, droplets making their way to the blood-soaked floor.

She let out a gasping breath, then fell backwards, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he body convulsed. She shook, her teeth biting her tongue, making it bleed.


"Cause of death was choking, but we found a bullet embedded into the back of her skull."

He looked puzzled, and squinted his eyes, eye-ing the CSI.

"Shouldn't the COD be the bullet?"

She shook her head. "She must have had a guardian angel watching over her. "