Love is More Painful Than Death
My Own Blood on my Hands
Pain gripped my chest and left me with little to no air. “Do it, Anika! Shoot him!” The helicopter hovered above, ready to take us away once I finish the job. I stared into his deep blue eyes. He was waiting for me. He was waiting for me to shoot him. How could I shoot the man that I loved most? “Anika!” I glance over at Alex. He took me in when I needed help. He protected me and loved me unconditionally. He was the reason as to why I was going to kill Royce. Just the thought of it tore at my heart. Tears swell into my eyes and I look back at Royce. I loved Alex. But I wasn’t in love with him. Yes, he’s kind to me, and he’s sweet and he pays close attention to things I do and don’t like, but, he didn’t make me feel.
My heart doesn’t beat faster when he grabs my hand. My leg doesn’t get the urge to kick up like the clichés when he kisses me. My mind doesn’t wander to his smile every other freaking second of the day. He wasn’t Royce. Royce is overprotective and passionate. He’s rough around the edges but he has a heart of pure gold. I will never, ever be able to love someone as much as I love him. He is all I need and all that I want. And that is why he must die.
I shakily raise my hand with the gun in it. The metal of the weapon is freezing cold in my palm. Royce shakes his head no. Tears blur my vision, I cry openly for everyone to see. Sobs shake my shoulders and escape my mouth. “I am so sorry.” I whisper to the air.
And then a thought comes. One so quick I have to clutch onto it so it doesn't slip away. Freedom. My escape. Raising the gun to my temple, I pull the trigger.
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© 2018 Ahkeima Rumbeau