Two Bullets

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium


Bullets are for problems.

Submitted: October 16, 2017

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Submitted: October 16, 2017

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“Think….think. Why did she do it? Why me? Why now?” He paced and paced in front of that grimy mirror where one’s reflection is near impossible to see. “That, that, that bitch! I swear, I swear, I would’ve done it right then and there!” He rubbed his forehead and grabbed the top of his head, still pacing. “I would’ve done it. No-but no. I can’t. I couldn’t.” He looked over his shoulder to the living room which was dimly lit. The TV was turned off. “Maybe…..maybe today.” Tears started to roll down his face and he caught them with his forearm and walked to the living room. “Today? Today? Maybe.” He sat on the floor in front of the sofa and looked at the nightstand. An empty pill bottle was there. “No more of that. No more of this. This, that. Can’t, won’t go on. Not like this. Not anymore.”

He started to dig under the sofa and pulled out a silver revolver fitted with a brown handle and big enough to deliver serious damage to a big animal. He held it tightly with both hands. Staring at the etching on its side, “For My Boy”, it read. “For my boy.” He started to think of his father. How much effort he put in to make his son feel as normal as possible. Played football, talked about girls, hung out at diners and whatnot. He remembered how safe he felt when he was with him. How much it meant to have someone who understood him. He stared long and hard at the barrel and finally mustered up the courage to slide out the cylinder and look at the bullets. “One for me, one for you.” There were only two bullets. He slid the cylinder back and aligned the bullet with the gun’s chamber. He held it up and pointed it at the television in front. He saw his reflection on its black surface. He saw his face, his clothes. He noticed how no one would care if all of this was gone. He pointed the gun at the side of his temple and his hand shook terribly. He was tightly shutting his eyes but that forced him to imagine the pain and what comes after. It terrified him. He held his breath to make the trembling stop but that didn’t work because a minute after, he was gasping for air, sweating. He tried it again. Tried to control the fear. “I know you tried, but it’s over now” he said while trying to pull the trigger which was very resistant and just when he was ready, a loud ruckus from outside his door.

A scuffle. Two people, a man and a woman, clearly arguing right outside his door. They were loudly insulting each other and he can also hear a crying child. He lowered his gun and looked toward his door. It felt like they were going to burst in any minute and yell at him and that made him feel uneasy. He slowly got up and went over to check through the peephole and saw of course, a man and a woman yelling at each other. She was throwing bags at the man and shouting obscenities and that made him feel even more uncomfortable. But what startled him the most when he was looking through his door was the sight of a small girl. 8 or 9 years old at most, still in her pajamas standing behind the two and crying. The man went to go to the elevator at the far end of the hallway and the woman followed him, still throwing a fit. The little didn’t know what to do and so she was looking around like a startled deer.

He didn’t want her to stay by herself, so he stopped watching and creaked open his door just slightly and whispered to the girl, “are you okay?” She nodded the wrong nod and wiped her tears away. “Those are your parents huh?” She nodded the good nod and stood there silently. “Come. I have some milk in the fridge. You want some?” The little girl stared at him blankly. “I’m not dangerous, it’s okay. I’ll leave my door open.” He gestured at her to come inside. She agreed and went in. She walked around the living room and sat herself on the sofa, still sniffling. “You okay? Let me grab that milk for you.” Completely oblivious that he was still holding his revolver, he went and poured a small glass of milk for the little girl and gave it to her. In the distant side of the hallway, the broken couple were still yelling. The little girl drank the milk and wiped her face with her pajamas. “How is it? All good?” She nodded the good nod and pointed at his hand; at his revolver. He finally noticed that he was still holding the gun and got startled. He hid it behind his back,

“It’s nothing. Doesn’t work don’t worry. Not gonna hurt you.”

The girl finally opened her mouth and said, “my dad has one just like that but he doesn’t let anyone touch it.”

He sat down on the couch beside her. “This is something you don’t mess around with. Especially little kids.”

“I just want to sleep but they don’t let me. I hope they go away forever. I don’t wanna see them anymore.” The little girl was staring at her empty glass.

“How come?”

“I hate them.” She looked towards the hallway.

“You should love them. They’re the only ones in this world who will always love you.”

The little girl kept staring outside. The door was still open.

“You should love them. Look,” He pulled out his revolver from the side and showed it to her, “My father gave it to me for my 21st birthday.”

The little girl stared at it, “what were you doing with it?”

He hesitated to find an answer.

“My dad has one just like yours but he never brings it out. It’s only for problems he said.” The little girl stared into his eyes.

“Yea. I pulled it out because of a problem.” He looked long and hard at the barrel of the gun and opened the cylinder.

“What was the problem?” the little girl asked.

“Oh you know. Just like your parents. We were fighting and she left.”

“That’s not a problem. I need to get up for school early tomorrow. That’s a problem!”

The man gave off a smirk when he looked at her and she was also smiling, “Everyone has their problems.”

The little girl pointed at the gun, “Only two?”

“Yeah. Problems only need two bullets. Either someone else has a problem or you’re the one—“ He paused and realized he was talking to a child. He looked towards her and she was still smiling, which made him smile, “Never mind. Let me take that glass.”

The scuffle outside has stopped and a woman was angrily stomping through the hallway. The little girl heard this and peeked outside the door. She turned back at the man and said, “What’s your name?”

He hesitated again. He looked at his gun and looked at her, “I’m just a friend.”

She ran outside into the hallway into the arms of her mother who was both furious, crying and confused about the whereabouts of her daughter. He shut the door and look it. He looked at the revolver and slid out the cylinder. He took out the two bullets and held them tightly in his hand and walked over to the window, opened it, and threw them as hard as he can. He placed the gun under his couch mattress and plopped down on his couch and said to himself, “Not today. Not anymore.”


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