Delicate Pulse | Violentine

Introduction

(tw: alluding themes towards su*c*de)

Clementine POV

It wasn't what I had expected. The pistol felt heavy whilst it laid in my grasp. The sunlight streaming through the window pane drew a bright glint on it while I shifted it delicately in my palm. It always confused me how something so dangerous could also be so captivating at the same time.

I stood up from a crouching stance, still enchanted by it. I flipped it over to one side and popped open the cylinder.

Empty.

I glance briefly at the sealed box of bullets sitting lonely at the back of the draws before pushing them shut.

I began walking around, the thumps of my footsteps contrasting against the silence of my house. Mom and dad are still out at an event and haven't been home for hours. Even with them here, it wasn't usually any different. I wandered into the living room and began aiming the gun at random objects such as a lamp, a coaster and a snow globe resting upon the shelf above the fireplace. I aimed it at this abstract painting which has hung on the wall of our lounge for years. I flicked the hammer downwards, just how I've watched my dad do before, and gently tugged at the trigger. My hands jolt at the sudden motion as a clicking noise sounds off. I wince a little, shaking the dull pain out of my right hand. It felt like someone had just pinched my fingers. Ignoring the ache, I clasp the pistol again and continuing to aim and pretend to shoot at things. A rhythm of clicks began to form together, the sound of them was strangely satisfying. I knew what I was doing was wrong and my parents were going to kill me if they ever found out, but it made me feel so powerful and in control for once in my life.

At some point I find myself in the bathroom, staring at my reflection. The side of my lip curls into a smirk when I see the gun again. I shake my head, it looks so big and out of place in my grip. I literally looked like a little girl with a weapon just thrown into her hands, awkward and modest.

Maybe it's why I didn't even think about what I was about to do next.

I raise the gun at the mirror, watching myself do it straight back at me. I flicked and squeezed.

Click. No bullet.

I then raise it slowly to the side of my temple. The pressure of the muzzle pressed against my head made my heart stop. The jump of adrenaline was enough to make me realise what the fuck I was actually doing. I go to lower the pistol when my dad skids into the doorway. I was so in my head that I didn't even hear my parents come home. The next couple of moments happened so quickly that they seemed to blur together into a single frame. My dad tackling and disarming me. The screaming of my mom. The yelling and shoulder shaking and slaps smacked across my cheek. The confusion, anger, heartbreak and shock that drowned out the once silent atmosphere.

I had pushed them over the edge and this was their final straw.