Mirage

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«Fuck!»

The one single word pierced through the heavy silence I had managed to create all by myself. It pierced through the heavy burden holding me down, cleaving it in half, but it was not even close to ending it, because this horrid creature was one not easily slain.

I grabbed a hold of the mattress again, my hands were trembling like a drug addict needing another quick fix. My mind wrought with agony as I struggled with what I was about to do. I struggled not only with what I was about do to myself, but surprisingly enough pain filled me as I thought about what I was about to do to him, to Bryan. 

I love you...

I wanted nothing more than to delay further, to hold on just a little while longer, to make absolutely sure that he was gone. That was at least the excuse I told myself, the excuse I lived. But deep down I knew that it wasn't true, and that waiting to remove the collar around my foot would be nothing but counter productive. Waiting would be pointless, the only purpose it would serve was to prolong my own agony as I struggled with the choice that I had already made. Because I had made my choice the very moment I had entered the garage yesterday. I had chosen to run, I had chosen to leave him, to break the fragile thing that had started to grow between us. 

I pulled the mattress back towards my body, and stared at the two tools that were reveled for a second time that day. But this time I did what I could not do the last time, I grabbed the hammer and the screwdriver, before I let the mattress fall back against the bed frame with a muted thud. I was still amazed that the tool where still there, that he hadn't known, because somehow Bryan seemed to always know everything.

Does he know?

Is this just another trap?

This feels way too easy to not be a trap!

Fuck!

I pushed the thoughts back into the depths of my mind, lingering on them would do no good. If he knew then this was nothing more than another test, and he would be waiting for me outside. If he didn't know... well.. This would be the end, the end of everything, I would be free.

Yes... free until he comes for you..

and when he does.......

I crawled over to the edge of the bed, and pressed the soles of my feet flat against the cold hardwood floor. My hands trembled as I angled the tip of the screwdriver on the flat surface in between the two cylinders that entered into the case of the lock itself. I lifted the hammer, my hand held onto the wooden handle of the tool just a bit to tightly. I aimed the hammers head at the red handle of the screwdriver, my hands trembled almost uncontrollably as I gathered up my nerves. The point I was aiming at wasn't really that small, but it felt like I was trying to hit a grain of sand with a needle from a mile away, it felt damn near impossible.

Fuck!

Dont miss...

Dont miss..

Missing will hurt...

Missing will fuck your leg up bad!

really bad...

I was just about to swing the hammer down hard, when my hand, the one holding the screwdriver, slipped. I nicked my skin with the cross slotted head, and watched as tiny pearls of blood glittered on the surface of my pale, slightly clammy skin. 

I hissed in pain, despite the tiny scratch not being remotely painful at all. My mind had been so fixed upon the daunting idea that I would miss my mark with the hammer, and impale the screwdriver deeply into the soft flesh of my left ankle, that my hands had trembled too hard, trembled and slipped. It was nothing less than a mere miracle that my hand hadn't actually slipped sooner. I could not help but release a yelp at the onslaught of pain which never actually showed its wicked face at all, a pain that was nothing more than a trick of the mind. A ghost, a reflection of a different reality, of a different outcome, a outcome that might soon become my reality.

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