Hello everyone,

I started this short story a while ago, and I'm just now going to post the first chapter. Last year, one month after I lost my grandma, my cousin died suddenly. He was 28 years old and had a massive heart attack. It was such a devastating blow for me and my family. Since then, I wanted to write a story in his honor.

It is coming on the anniversary of his death and so I will start posting it now.

I hope you enjoy it, and no, it won't interfere with my other stories. Thanks for reading.

Please review …

Chapter 1

Edward-

My palms were sweating like crazy, and my fucking deodorant decided to take the day off. Glancing at the clock on the dash, I rocked impatiently in my seat as I contemplated what I was considering.

As I envisioned bursting into those glass doors, another river of sweat slid down my temples. Gulping down the anxiety choking the shit out of me, I leaned forward and yanked the glove box open.

My gut clenched as my fingers wound around the hard butt of the nine-millimeter, and with sweat dripping into my eyes, I checked the clip. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Panic welled in my chest and my heart was thumping so hard it threatened to tear out of my ribs.

Holy hell, I'd never been so fucking panicked in my life.

I sat there forever reevaluating my options. With a crazed chuckle, I hit the steering wheel, knowing deep down there were no other fucking options. I closed my eyes, slowly counting to ten, inhaling deeply trying to alleviate the well of frustration that had become my life. "Fuck my life."

I swallowed the lump choking me as Justin's pale face danced through my thoughts. Watching him become sicker and sicker every day was hell on earth and just the image of his sweet face had tears I refused to shed filling my eyes.

"I can do this. I need to do this." As I chanted, my fingers tightened on the revolver. "Oh, God. I don't want to do this. Fuck!"

I knew I had no other possibilities to cover stacks upon stacks of medical bills. What the hell was I supposed to do? Sit and watch my son die because I couldn't afford adequate treatment?

No way. No way. I wasn't going to watch my son slowly deteriorate. Not today, and not on my watch.

Blowing out a deep breath, I sat up as the clock slipped to five. The bank would be closing soon and I tried to plan a time when it wasn't so overwhelmed with business. Rocking in my seat with my heart thundering in my chest, I grabbed the mask out of the center console.

Staring down into my lap, I silently prayed I could get in and out without detection. I had been sitting here for the past hour and I watched people come and go. Licking my lips nervously, I yanked the mask down over my hair as I finished my prayer. "Wow. Holy shit. Am I doing this?"

"Yes, I'm doing this."

All of a sudden, a calm came over me as I pushed the car door open. I'd left the keys in the ignition for a quick escape, and surveilling the parking lot one more time, I grabbed the duffel bag from the back seat. I was heading towards the front door when a woman with mahogany hair came around the building and darted in the door ahead of me. "Shit."

I couldn't do this.

I had to do this.

Fuck. Shit.

My nostrils flared and my jaw ached from grinding my teeth. Steadying my nerves, I pushed forward, saying, "Fuck it."

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