It Wasn’t Me.

_Bam_. 

I stare at the man standing in front of me, staring at the hole in his stomach with shock. I feel my eyes well up as I look at the gun in my shaking hands, pointed right at him. 

He falls to his knees, clutching his stomach. He looks up at me, a betrayed look in his eyes. I stand, frozen, for longer than I should. I drop the gun on the ground and kneel in front of him. My heart shatters, seeing the pain and betrayal in his eyes. I want to say something, but once again, my voice betrays me. 

He looks down at his blood-covered hand and back up at me. My breaths become faster and faster as his become shallower. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. 

A tear slips out of my eye as he leans forward, leaning his forehead against mine. More follow as I feel his heart slow down. I wrap my arms around him, trying to hold my tears back. Not even a minute later, he goes limp. I pull back, setting my hands on his shoulders, shaking him, silently begging him to wake up, but nothing happens. 

Tears slip down my cheeks and I squeeze my arms around him, begging his arms to return the gesture like they always do. I bury my face in his stiff shoulder, not caring about the blood or the tears. All I care about is the cold, stiff man in my arms. Sobs wrack my body until my tears are spent and my heart is empty. I pull back and turn away, not able to bear looking at his face. I gently lay him down on the ground and stand on shaking legs. 

I turn, my eyes searching the room for the one responsible for this. To my disgust, she’s already left. She should consider herself lucky. The next time I see her will be the last. I swear that my face will be the last thing she sees.

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