He paces the floor, frantically sweeping his free hand through his disheveled hair. “No.”
“Dean, I just think—”
“No!” he roars. “I won’t let you go.” There’s desperation in his voice and it almost has me caving. I don’t want to hurt him any more than he already does but I have to remind myself that we’ve been down this road too many times before.
It’s over.
I have to end this.
Otherwise, it will end us both.
“I just can’t do this anymore.” I hold his gaze, his eyes wide and unfocused.
He reaches behind his back, revealing a revolver. I freeze in fear. “I can’t live without you.” His dark brown eyes peer down at me, his hard gaze cold and unforgiving.
“Dean, please don’t do this.”
A single tear slips down my cheek. His eyes are on fire, pain and anger swirling together in a devastating storm destined for destruction. I feel like I’m trapped inside of a burning house with no one to save either of us and no way out.
Past
Dean
What have I become?
When did ending it all become my only option? My only way out? I’ve thought about it hundreds of times, but never with this much resolve. Never with so much determination. But I can’t take it anymore.
It’s too much.
And Sylvie.
I am nothing without her.
Gripping the sides of my head, I beg the voices to stop but they won’t shut up. They never will. They constantly battle with my heart and soul, begging to end it all.
I focus on the pain.
It’s the only thing that is real anymore.
“Dean, please. We can get help if you’ll just—”
I laugh at her ridiculous plea. “There’s not a goddamn pill or doctor that can cure me. You know that. What does it matter anyway? I’m nothing without you.”
Her tear-filled eyes hold mine as fear causes her body to tremble. “Don’t say that. You matter.”
The cold steel feels heavy against my skin but it’s nothing compared to the burden I carry inside.
She’s sobbing now, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks in rivers of grief. Pain I know is there because of me.
I’ve never been able to figure it out. The poison that lives inside of me eats away at my mind like a starving vulture. All I know is that I can’t fight it anymore.
I don’t have the fucking strength.
I grab ahold of the back of her neck, pulling her forehead to mine, then I press the barrel of the gun underneath her chin. “I want to take you with me,” I whisper, looking into her deep blue eyes.
The only place I find any semblance of peace is when I look into those eyes or hold her in my arms, but I am slowly killing her, sucking the life from her, and I can see it every time she looks at me.
The insistent need to pull the trigger is growing stronger by the second. I long to bury the pain once and for all. To suffocate the voices that whisper truth and lies.
