"I told you to run. Now they're on my ass!" exclaimed Ezekiel Martin.

"But Ezekiel-" tried his girlfriend, Sarah Gomez.

"But nothing! It's your fault I'm gonna die."

"Ezekiel-" she stepped towards him.

"Don't touch me. Get out."

"But-"

And then he struck her. She fell to the ground, sobbing, nose bleeding. Ezekiel stormed out to his truck.

"Ezekiel! Wait!"

Ezekiel drove off, trying to get away. He went and got a hotel room. He can be alone now.

Ezekiel had stayed there, in the Holiday Inn, thinking. He flipped on the television, but nothing could calm him down. Then he let someone in, who had been banging on the door.

"What do you want?"

"We warned you."

"I have the money, eh."

"I don't care about the money anymore. All I want is your dead body."

The sound of the revolver pierced Ezekiel's eardrums. It wasn't his fault. He didn't deserve to die. But that didn't matter. His life was slipping away. He looked down, the bullet had hit right in his heart. He then faded out, soon to be arriving in heaven.