Pulling the Trigger
“It is not seen as insane when a fighter, under an attack that will inevitable lead to his death, chooses to take his own life first. In fact, this act has been encouraged for centuries, and is accepted even now as an honorable reason to do the deed. How is it any different when you are under attack by your own mind?”
― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls
“We have to do it at the same time.” I say calmly, handing her the black, shiny weapon. She nodded in understanding and took its ruff structure into her delicate soft hands. She looked so sexy with it…Thick eyeliner framed her loving ice-gray eyes, making them almost transparent looking. Her hair was soft, smelling of Daisies and in delicate, natural curls. Because of the white bedroom and the bright lights, her black hair framed her face in what looked like a perfect way, her black clothes standing out, making her look like even more of an angel then what I saw every day before. Her hand clutched the object tightly, making the pale skin on her fingers and knuckles turn even paler, making her black nail polish stand out even more. Her perfect pink lips were trembling, those beautiful eyes she had now watering.
“Angel…” I spoke gently, taking her in a hug. “Cuts, I can’t wait any longer. We have to do it.” She sobbed, clutching me as if her life depended on it. But it wasn’t her life that was at stake here; it was her sanity. I gave her one last, long kiss as voices that didn’t belong to my conscious ring in my ears. Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled away. I walked to the familiar desk and took our journals out of my backpack and set them on the cool, white surface. I turned back to Angel, she was squeezing her eyes shut and I would usually let out a laugh of how cute she was, but I knew why she was doing it. She was in pain. The voices that whispered to her their darkest secrets scraped at her very soul, as they did to mine. I took her in my arms, breathing in the fresh Daisies smell one more time. “I love you, Angel.” I whisper as I look straight into her gorgeous, damp eyes. “I love you too, Cut.” She whispers back, giving me an emotion filled kiss. This was the last one we would ever share. I clutch her to me, our bodies as close as they can get, fire coursing through my veins as the kiss deepens.
Her lips were soft like silk, tasting of the strawberry smoothie we had shared only hours ago at the Smoothie Shop. Pulling away breathless I go behind her, arms underneath hers as I cock my gun, and she does the same. Her back against my chest; I feel her shaking. I rest my free hand over her occupied one and rest my finger over her trigger finger. I rest my chin somewhat on her shoulder, making sure the barrel was positioned just under my chin with her gun. Her soft shaking hand went over mine, and I brought my gun to the side of her head. Her finger resting gently on my trigger finger. Our fingers fit perfectly in front of it. We both had to make sure we each pulled it, just incased one wimped out. But with the situation we were in, I didn’t think it was going to happen. My eyes close, and I know hers have fluttered shut too. “From love,” I whisper, “and pain.” She whispers back, voice shaky too. “Until death,” I whisper. “Even after death. We do not part.” I tried to smile, but we both heard the voice. I killed my baby girl, please, help me. We both took in a shaky breath, exhaling in sync. “Make our wish.” She whispered. “Like it’s our birthday.” I replied, the gun still pressing up under my chin. I wouldn’t be surprised if we took the barrel away that there would be a mark. But that wasn’t going to happen. We take another breath. “Like blowing out a candle…” she reassured herself. “Angel, it’s ok. It’ll make it go away, I promise.” I swallow, pressing my body against her back more. She sighed. “I wish the voices would go away.” We say at the same time.