Ican’t breathe.
I can’t see anything but red.
Crimson eats up the hardwood floor beneath his head, slowly inching toward my feet. A scream shreds the hollow of my throat, sharp and thick. The foreign sound penetrating the eerie silence as the unbearable pain in my chest threatens to buckle my knees. My hands and body tremble uncontrollably as I find the courage to look at him.
His eyes are slightly open, but they are hauntingly still, lifeless.
Dead.
My heart plummets to my stomach. The urge to vomit is strong, but throwing up would require air, and I still haven’t found any yet.
My eyes travel to the gun, gleaming from his right hand, taunting me with grave finality.
I fall to the floor next to him. A sob racks my body, sadness and darkness staking their final claim on my soul.
“Dean.”
His name is a desperate plea. A painful prayer I know will never be answered.
He’s gone.
Forever.
And it’s all my fault.
My heart shatters into a million tiny pieces, never to be whole again.
