Let Her Go
He'd finally let her go, to that scary dark city. He wasn't worried because the scary and dark was him. And she had run from that, the one thing he was. He sits now, alone in the dimly-lit motel room, missing her, loving her, and crying for her. She was the only person who'd ever loved him. Ever. Then he'd gone and tore up her heart, inside-out.
In all reality she was his. His little toy, a toy with which he messed and played, even hit. But now, she belonged to that single man, the one he hated so much. She called one day from his place of living, saying she'd found a new lover, one who'd never hit her or yell at her.
Now he sits, wondering in his thoughts how he could have been so luck to have a nice dame follow him around for ten years.
He then realized he'd die alone, with no warm hands on his while he takes his last breath, no. He was alone.
"I hope you're happy Bats."
As he pulled out the small pistol, he whispered those same words he had when they met.
"We can be crazy together, or not at all."
Then without the slightest hesitation he lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
AN:
Hey guys! This is a small part of the story I'm working on. Yes, that quote came from my brain.
Inspired by "Let Her Go" by Passenger. Please R&R!