He sits looking at her. She's so beautiful. He reminisces how she came bursting through the door, as the bullet went through him. She grabbed him, she put him in the hospital, she took care of him, nursed him. He loves her, god he does, he loves her to the ends of the Earth and back. He wants to have her forever, he had her, he lost her. He thought he lost her because of his mistakes...but they weren't his...
The pain starts. It always starts like this. The bullet wound starts searing, burning, it's going red. Sometimes, he can stop it, sometimes, it just explodes. It's taking over, it's starting to explode...his vision is going, his temples are throbbing, he remembers...those nights when he cried for her, those nights he sat listening to their songs, those days when he called her and she abused him, the day he opened his email and cried for three hours...the day he cried...that was also his birthday...he cried for her.
The rage takes over. He doesn't know what he's doing, he's hearing sounds, he's saying things, he hears himself shout, he sees her crying but the rage, it's there. The wounds are searing so bad, he doesn't know what he's doing. He's lashing out at her, he's lashing out at himself and all he wants to know, all he cares about is why...why does he have those wounds, what did he do to deserve them? Why do they burn so sharply? Why did he get her when he gave her nothing and he got nothing when he gave her everything...why god damn it..why why why. That word consumes his mind, his body, his very essence of being. Why!?
He finally calms down. He sees the marks on her body, he sees the eyes wide in fright, but still filled with love, he sees the marks on his body...and that's when the tears start. She's curled up in a corner, afraid....of him. How does he explain to her that he's hurting because of her, that she's suffering for making him suffer so much! Why did she make him suffer, even she doesn't know. All he's known since he's known her, is deep, deep, complete devotion to her, and he has almost invariably suffered for it.
He approaches her, she winces. He tries again, he says those three words to her, he means them, she thinks he doesn't. He wants to be there for her, she thinks all he wants is to hurt her. He tells her he needs her. She tells him she can't be with him. She leaves.
The wounds sear again. He has no one left to lash out to...only himself. He lashes out one last time. This time, the peace is real and complete. It's pure, untouched. He won't feel anything again, no more pain, no more suffering, no more false guilt, no more love. There will only be...nothing.