It's dark, late night.
I enter to an empty house, cold and alone.
I grab a drink from the kitchen and walk to my room.
Then I see it- that little white paper,
Oh how its words scared me.
I hurried up the stairs, my drink shattering on the attic floor.
There she is, shaking, pistol in hand.
I ran towards her to stop it.
I'm sorry.
That's the last thing she said.
Why did she have to do it?
The gunshot rang in my ears, my eyes filling as her blood paints the floor.
No.. she can't do this to me.
Prying the gun from her lifeless fingers I slowly place it to my lips.
I'm coming.
