My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

My finger is on the trigger.

All I have to do is squeeze.

I take one more breath.

My last one.

Then…

Then…

The door opens.

I clench my teeth, getting ready to squeeze the trigger. They won’t choose this for me. I’ll do it myself. I’ll pick the moment.

Maybe I’ll make them watch. This can haunt their dreams.

They burst inside.

Only it’s not them.

It’s a SWAT team, in helmets and masks and vests.

“Put the gun down!” someone yells, and I’m frozen. Is this really happening? Am I imagining it? “Put the gun down!” they repeat, and so I do.

I lay it down on the floor.

The floor is cold under my fingers.

This is real.

I’m saved.

Or am I?

As they bustle in and figure out who I am, and bundle me into a blanket, I feel more lost and alone than ever. I’m high as a kite, and I have no feelings. Not anymore.

I lost myself in this room.

I’ll never be the same.

“My daughter,” I mumble. “Is she alive?”

“Yes, Mr. Tate,” they tell me. “She’s fine. The EMTs are looking at her right now. What drugs have they given you?”

They can tell I’m high. I can’t even tell them everything I’ve taken, everything that’s in my system. There’s too much to remember.

“What about my wife?” I ask him, and I’m afraid to hear the answer.

“She’s alive,” they say and I die a million deaths in relief. “She’s on her way here to you.”

But I can’t.

I can’t let her see me like this.

30

Chapter Twenty-Nine