A/N: This is depressing. Put whoever you want in it, and I know it's OOC but I just don't care right now. I'm in a weird headspace and I just need to write.
Disclaimer: It's not mine. So all you people who might want to sue me go get a life.
She sighed, weighing the gun in her palm. The cool metal, it was so smooth, and the contraption was so small… such power held in a seemingly innocent metal object. She glanced at it, then over the edge of the building. She knew she should get rid of it. The change of having it around… too risky. She didn't know what she might to if she got desperate. Pausing, she laughed slightly under her breath. Yes, if she got desperate. Like standing on top of her love's apartment building while he sat inside laughing with another woman wasn't desperate. The man she loved was down there with another woman. She had been so sure he loved her in return, but now she knew otherwise. She laughed again and tossed the gun to the other hand. She looked at it. She knew it was loaded—she had loaded it herself. And she knew that she could use it well. The question was, could she? Could she use it? To kill others… or herself? Such an easy way out. The simple pull of a trigger, the spark lit, and then bliss. She knew what it was like, the shock of a gun. The tremor it sent through you, of fear and power. It was like a drug. But that's why she didn't use them unless necessary. Her line of work could require it, sometimes, and she would use them to protect the man she loved, but that was it. Never could she use it just for the sake of using. Still, the though of him and another woman, laughing and being happy while she sat on his roof not knowing what she was doing there; holding his gun, the gun she knew he had almost used for the same purpose. She ran the cold metal across her face, wondering if he had done the same. There were other ways to deal with the pain, she knew. Alcohol, drugs, all those other addictive things. But holding a gun was just as addictive. Then there was the way that, while not erasing the pain, would help for a short time. She could take out her rage in a peaceful way. Alec. She knew he wouldn't complain… she knew he wanted her and if she went and said to him that she wanted him too he wouldn't say anything. He would accept it and just fuck her. And sometimes that all a girl really needs. A little passion, not love but lust. The power that you can hold over a man was a drug in itself, just as good as the gun she now held. But in the end it would just make thing weirder and that would add to the pressure…. There was no way out. Except the gun. The simple little thing that held the power of God. The power to chose life or death, to make someone pay or to release them. She tossed the gun back and forth, staring over the edge of the building, contemplating throwing it as far as she could. The height and the cold night air was making her dizzy and the sound of her laughter carried up at something he had said and down below a drunk man crashed into a pile of trash as he passed out and a car far off honked at another and a siren rang and a woman on a corner greeted a man and as they disappeared into an alley she lost control.
And the sound of laughter halted as a sharp shot rang out into the night.