Suicidal Motives

The climb was always so exhausting. She hated hiking. Hated coming all the way out here... But it was the only place she could go. It was their place.

The hill finally crested off. She didn't even look at the massive ash tree that crowned the rise, taking for granted it would be there, as it always was, when she leaned back against it. The wood dug into her spine and she relished the small discomfort. Staring out over the Blue Ridge mountains she took in the poetic scene with jaded cynicism. The cycle of life beginning and ending, feeding itself on the souls it created...

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the sterling cigarette case and his stainless steel zippo. The little stick ignited instantly in her hand and she inhaled the burning aroma of tobacco and chemicals like a drowning woman gulping back clean air.

His hand came down over her left shoulder, his familiar tuxedo jacket weathered and worn in the corner of her vision. She handed him a square and his zippo. The familiar click of the lighter and the distant glow of orange flame barely registered even though it was the only thing she could seem to focus on. He handed her back the zippo and they remained like that for a moment. Silently sharing the feel of endorphins being released into their brains by the nicotine.

"Don't know why you bother coming here," his voice was so grated, so harsh and strangled that she had to hold her breath to hear it in the stillness. "You know what to do."

"Yeah. Maybe I just like seeing you."

He chuckled, a sharp series of hisses that sounded like wheezing. "The crows don't even like seeing me."

"That's because you've no eyes left to eat." she replied, her voice dry and emotionless.

For another long moment there was nothing. Just the wind rustling the leaves and the dull creaking of the rope.

"How did he find out, Grant?" she asked finally.

"How did any of us find out? You can't know who's one of us or not until they do it."

Again she sat quietly listening to the voice, now so familiar, and so very different from the beginning... "You're lying." she finally said.

"Maybe."

Taking a final drag on her cigarette she stood, flicking the butt away into the brush. Maybe the hill would catch fire. Maybe not. "I better go then."

"I love you." he whispered in his mangled voice and for a moment she wanted to look at him. Turn around and peer up into the empty sockets of his skull. But she'd promised him... Hugging instead the leg that dangled next to her, she rested her head on his hip for a heartbeat.

"I love you." she replied and with a well practice move she pulled the gun from her pocket, put it to her temple and pulled the trigger.