Her eyes, were what caught him when they first met. It was not the colour, no, they were a common brown, and it was what he saw in them something so foreign he didn't even recognize it at first, freedom. She was free, uninhibited by the strict society rules of the elite that he had always lived by. He met her in university; she was so young, so beautiful, and so passionate. Today was the seventh anniversary of when they had first met. It was love at first sight and the coming year had them living together, engaged and married. Now he was thinking if they had rushed things too much and if they were meant' for each other.
It was hard at work now that his father had died and left him the company. The stress had left a mark in him, his hair was already grey and crows feet surrounded his eyes. He just didn't have time for her and she didn't understand she just kept yelling her eyes flashing and her chest heaving. So he drank, at first it was just one before coming home then it was two, then three, and now he just didn't come home.
She caught him pants around his ankles in her own home. He got sloppy, brought the whore home; she was supposed to be with Maria having a girl's night out. She just stood there and stared. She didn't say anything and her eyes they were cold, hard, and empty from the long years as his wife. A surge of anger hit him. Why wasn't she yelling? Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she crying?
He realized in a moment of drunken clarity that the woman before him was not the one he had married it was a shell, a covering that he had turned her into. He could not stand it, that cold piercing stare. He wanted that look to be gone, he longed for that innocent freedom he once saw that he had so loved. He walked towards her slowly and purposefully. BANG. A warm feeling spread through him then the pain hit, the agonizing pain. He looked at her; she was still holding the gun. A hollow feeling ran through him, she was going to kill him and he deserved it. He waited and waited when that final shot didn't come he looked up. Just then, she whispered through the quiet night interrupted only by the whore's sobbing cries, the gun still pointing at him, "I'm sorry." BANG.