The Countdown
Five. Cold metal bit into his temple and he shivered. This idea he had, it was different in his mind.
Four. He fingered the trigger hesitantly. In his mind he heard a voice. “A disappointment,” the voice said. “Nobody will miss you.”
Three. He gritted his teeth, finger heavy, a weight of doubt. Tears dripped.
Two. Another voice. A voice once cherished. “You’ll regret it,” it said. “This isn’t what you want, Sean.” His eyes narrowed.
One. “You don’t know what I want.” His finger twitched: too hard.
That night, the wind sang the saddest song; the countdown ended.
Zero.
