blue steel

She is cold beneath my shaking hands. weighty and solid. I run my fingers over her. Every inch, as if discovering her for the first time. I can feel the urgent rap of my heart against my ribs. I pay no attention. I just continue my careful caress. She is beautiful. The light is fading fast. There in the gloaming I am holding her. My mind is racing. Sorrow is all around me, thick as fog. I am barely aware of my hands as they slide the round in. The click of it as it is chambered. I am startled by the SNAP. I am utterly alone with a gun. A gun with a live round chambered. My mind starts worrying. My impulse is ramping up, raging against the stillness. The ice cold barrel meets my skull. I can’t help but lose control. I am sobbing. The pain is so very great, but I am unsure. I don’t know about this placement. I understand her, I know what she does when that trigger is pulled. I cannot be sure the end of her barrel will stay. It isn’t right. I pause, finger beside the trigger. I readjust and it still doesn’t feel right. I can’t get it right. I am afraid of getting it wrong. Of ending up not finishing it. I am afraid of being left with half a head. Nothing is in my mind but the impulse to pull that trigger running neck and neck with the fear of getting it wrong. or maybe it is a subconscious fear of the gun. I have never held a gun to my head with the safety off. I have never been there. I don’t even know how I got there. I have no recollection of walking upstairs, or taking out the gun. It is as if I am lost in some strange maze in my mind. I am terrified in that moment. I have never felt like that. All I could do was hold that firearm to my chest, crying, alone in the dark. I held her and rocked. Something was strangely comforting. Whether it was the movement, or the coldness of the gun. I don’t know. I held her there against me. Just me, a gun, and an impulse. I am horrified. I am confused. but most of all I am terrified of how it came undone so fast. What is the matter with me?????

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