A Sign From the Universe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about a suicide attempt in the woods.

Submitted: May 25, 2016

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Submitted: May 25, 2016

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He sat alone next to the fire. He thought of all the ways he'd been betrayed, used, abused and then forgotten. No matter the situation, he was always abandoned in the end. He'd been used for sex, for money, emotional validation. But he knew that as soon as his usefullness had run out, he'd be abandoned. Sometimes there was a fight, sometimes he snuck away after realizing that it was over, and sometimes they'd just fade away.

He'd been stolen from, treated as a breeding tool, a sex toy, a punching bag, a stress ball. That used to be fine, he had people to be strong for, but now they were all gone. Either dead and buried, or they just didn't care anymore.

It had happened so many times before, why was it different now? For what reason did he think she'd be any different? He wanted to give her everything. He wanted to be the one that would make her happy. He wanted so desprately to be in love again. And there he was again, sitting by the fire with his dead dad's gun contemplating suicide again. After everything, he was disposable to so many people. Perhaps it was time. Everybody he had ever loved had either died, forgotten about him, or hated him. All it would take would be a slip of his finger, and it would all be over.

He racked a round into the chamber. The safety was already off, the gun was loaded, there was nobody around to find him. He pulled the trigger, but the gun didn't go off. He racked the slide again and the shell fell onto the ground. The firing pin hadn't pierced the primer fully.

A malfunction had saved his life, and that malfunction sits in that same spot where he planned to end it all. It was a sign from the universe or whatever gods in the cosmos that he was meant to live. Maybe to achieve something great, or maybe as some sort of cosmic joke meant to prolong his suffering.

Either way, he would get his revenge. He would watch those who became his enemies burn around him. In the end, he would come out on top. He would watch them fail again and again. He would laugh as those who had stolen from him were taken to jail for larger theft. He would laugh as those who had used him for his money come begging for more from him. And rather than harming them, his revenge would be his victory over them. The simple fact that he was alive. His money, his power, his success would be his vengence. And their failures would loom over them forever.


© Copyright 2017 j.t. watchinghill. All rights reserved.

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