Trigger Happy
Drowning.
The sensation of water rushing through your body in a way it can't handle. It packs so much pressure, force, and fury that such a small body cannot contain it. It can break through dams, flood organs that were never meant for anything but keeping someone alive. Water damages, ruins, smears, and kills. It can tear apart families, take away homes, break hearts, and steal childhoods.
This pain was like that.
It was water and she drowned in it.
Kisa wanted to squeeze that trigger so badly, but was always terrified that hell would be waiting for her on the other side of that bullet. But what was the difference between a momentary lapse into limbo before crossing over into eternal damnation, and a life of isolation, wading through hardships like the walking dead with no spirit for anything? Hell was a dimension of brimstone, gnashing of teeth. Something that surpassed anything a human mind could ever fathom. It wasn't worth it. She kept telling herself this as she unlocked the glass, safety box that protected her mother's firearm. It was originally purchased for the sake of self defense. To defend against potential thieves that could break in due to the absence of a man in the household.
But as Kisa had the cool weight of this metallic gun in her hands, she came to realize that there was nothing worth protecting or keeping safe where she was involved. How pathetic it was to despise the soul you can never abandon or forsake. She was stuck with herself for the entirety of her life unless she reached her final act earlier than planned. Suspended in a trance, the girl traces her soft lips with the coarse, rounded muzzle of her mother's revolver. She makes circle after circle, swinging back and forth like a pendulum between the two choices she had.
All it had taken to learn how to load and reload a gun, to undo its safety was to scour the internet for answers. This modernized world had made killing yourself so easy. There were a lot more means available than there had been in the past. Now, she'd finally be able to silence all the insults about her strange hair and unusual eye color with a riveting game of Russian Roulette. It was so...
Simple.
Just as Kisa is about to step under the threshold of her bedroom, she pauses.
Then she makes an about face to go the opposite direction towards the bathroom.
She digs through the drawers, coming across combs and brushes and hair clips.
But its not long before she finds tiny green trimming scissors.
She looks up, glaring at her reflection in the clean glass. It was too perfect. The glass had no flaws; no cracks, smears, or damage. It made her feel heinous and filthy. To see that hideous hair color of hers and those bizarre eyes. Why couldn't she have black hair? Or brown? Why couldn't her eyes be like everyone else's? Hers were just ugly. So very, very ugly.
The girl grabs a clump of her hair, hacking away at it until it scatters to the floor in uneven lengths. She snips away at her tresses until it looks like a haircut done in the dark. But it was going away. That ugly hair was leaving her head, lessening the weight that bared on her crown. What should have been a halo of gold was more like horns of yellow. But it wouldn't be there much longer.
There would be nothing left.
It made no sense to cry over it.
So why was she?
Why was she?
It was no surprise that she's been alone for this entire attempt.
This wasn't a fairy-tale. There would be no prince or knight in shining armor to come to her aide.
Every princess in those stories was radiant. They had long, flowing gowns, cascading waves of hair, beautiful voices that enraptured beautiful and strong men. What could she do while she kept her voice locked away, buried deep inside the undiscovered hollows of her soul? She was no Snow White and she was far from being a Rapunzel.
She was worthless.
There would be nothing left.
When her eyes move back to the mirror, her kind features are altered by the scowl that takes control. Because it still hadn't worked. She still looked like the tigress she was born into; the forced inheritance that colored her hair and determined the shade of her eyes.
With a bitter grimace, she rids the room of its light and stalks back into her room. She was unused to the way the air conditioner assaulted the back of her neck because of the absence of her locks. The way it didn't sway or brush against her skin when she turned her head to search for the gun.
She finally finds it where she left it on the bed, picking it up and closing the door behind her. Her mom wouldn't be back from running her errands for at least two hours more, so she didn't have her walking in to worry about. Haru and Hiro - the only two that might be a problem - were both away visiting Tohru, much to the ram's disdain.
But it helped.
It helped that Hiro wouldn't have to see the aftermath of what she was about to do.
There would be no trace, no note. She figured she'd spare them the burden of her final thoughts. What would be the point of penning her perspective when she never afforded to voice it anymore?
After loading up one round of ammunition, slapping it into place, she raises the gun up in her trembling hand. Out of effort to keep herself from shaking, she claps her left hand over her right in order to keep it still. The moment the muzzle kisses the temple of her forehead it ceases the quake of tremors that ripped through her. It was as if everything became clear to her as her index finger hovers over the irregular shape that would set her free.
That trigger was just one lethal caress away.
With a fraction of a second spent hesitating, she squeezes it.
There's the confirming click of the spinning cylinder.
But...she's still breathing.
She had five more chances to think this through before she'd be lying on the floor, the life she could have had bleeding out of her cranium as her breath grew shallow and her skin turned cold.
With the next pull, a memory is released and plays tug of war with her subconscious.
One of the instances she was getting pushed around and bullied while the boy she loved said nothing. He didn't stand up for her or take it up with those that made her life miserable. He spent several months pretending she didn't exist and didn't stick out his neck for his best friend from grade school.
A tear splashes into her lap, followed by the third coax of the trigger.
The moment she was hiding in the bushes, listening to Tohru - the girl she'd considered a sister - explaining the feelings she couldn't express on her behalf. She understood her, didn't she? Regardless of the rays of sunshine she cast, she was no stranger to the eclipses life presented. Why was she doing this again?
The mocking laughter. The fear. The pain. The tears.
Oh, right.
Her finger dances over the trigger this time, less sure than she was the first few tries.
What about Haru? He was so scared when he learned about what happened. He was like a big brother she looked up to. She remembered all the times he would play dress up with her, just to make her happy. The tea parties they'd share and the piggyback rides. Was she willing to forfeit more happy times in the shadow of the bad?
She...she didn't know.
Should she?
A gasp tears through her, parting her lips in a painful blow of air. It felt like she was trembling past the membrane of her skin, right down to the bone marrow. Everything in her was breaking and shattering and ripping apart. Gaps, rifts, and chasms were created with each rugged inhale and exhale as the gun slips out of her clammy palm.
What was she doing, playing with fire? She was so close to ending it all. She could have been dead right now, never getting a chance to see Hiro or Haru or Tohru again.
Her hands rake through her jagged and ruined hair. Her eyes close all on their own, forced shut with tears that break free of the dam that was holding her together.
What was she doing? What was she doing?
She was supposed to be doing homework. Studying. Not coming up with ways to bring it all to a close. This wasn't what teenage girls did. It was no way to be.
This jolts her out of her stupor, making her jump to her feet and run out of the house with the gun still on the bed. Her legs carry her out into the the yard seeking refuge for her lungs.
She greedily grasps for heaps of fresh air to calm her speeding heart.
It felt like she could lose it any moment. Like being trapped in this body; this life.
Instead of going back to the place she called home, she moves forward without any thought of what she was doing. She weaves in and out of the labyrinth of the main house. Though she doesn't know what prize she's seeking at the end of the maze. She just wanted it. She needed it so badly.
Before she knows it, she's knocking on the door of a house that should be vacant.
He was visiting with the sunshine. Why would he stick around for her silhouette?
The shade was unpleasant and cold.
But the door flies open, and a boy that stands inches taller is there to greet her with a frown. But his lips smooth out into a neutral line when he discovers that the girl before him isn't some annoying visitor. But a friend. A girl that he wanted to make his, but couldn't confess to.
Wordlessly, she jumps into his arms, crying into his chest as his body goes taut in shock. She weeps while her arms wrap around his slim torso and her ribs rack with the pressure of her sobs. It takes a full two minutes before he's willing to allow his guard to collapse and he strokes her hair in what he hopes is comforting to her.
And Kisa smiles through her tears because this was all she'd wanted.
She just couldn't name it.
She couldn't pinpoint how to meet her needs.
What satiated her withered soul more than anything was this boy.
Never again.
She made a vow to herself to never let things get this far again.
For Tohru's sake.
For Haru's sake.
And...for Hiro.
She never wanted to know loneliness like that again.
I wrote this without trying to think it through too much. It's an out of the blue oneshot. But the point is...
I'm back! After a three day break I hadn't planned to take xD
Anyway, I hope you guys look forward to what's coming up.
Peace out!