Johnny stood alone in his small empty house, looking dismally around at the cracked, blood-splattered walls, faintly hearing the agonizing cries from the grim deeds that had been carried out in the very place many a night before. His eye twitched and he grabbed his head, shuddering, willing the noise away.
He stumbled onto the floor, head swimming, becoming more and more crazed. There he lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, shuddering and gasping like a child frightened in the dark. He curled up into a ball, gripping the gun so hard that his knuckles turned white.
'You know what you have done and what is coming for you,' a voice in his mind taunted. 'There is nothing left to live for; life is the one mistake that has turned you into what you have become. No one is here to save you from yourself. Redemption is through death and death only…'
A wild look shone in his eyes as he shot them open. He struggled onto his knees and with a shaking hand, held the gun at eye level, checking for bullets. One left. And this time there was going to be no mistakes, no more false steps. For no one was there but himself. With the gun at ready, he began to lift the tip to the side of his head. But something stopped him. With his arm poised in midair, he felt that he couldn't go through with it.
"No!" He cried to himself in vain, upset that he had almost convinced himself not to do it. He couldn't just forget all the things he had done, the lives he had ruined. There was something wrong with him and nobody would understand! How could they? He was only a hopeless cause condemned with the vile misfortune deemed to the human race as life. Now was his chance to break the chains he was unwillingly bound to. He himself who was as insignificant and misunderstood as his bleak fate.
"Over the stars," He remembered himself saying once. "I'll be over the stars."
His mind now made up, Johnny pressed the tip to his head, feeling the cold metal right above his ear. He wasn't going to go over the stars, oh no. He was going to be one of them.
A single tear slowly trickled down his cheek before he pulled the trigger.
Seeping from under his head, a pool of crimson drained from his now serene form, staining the hardwood floor, the solitary tear still creeping down his cheek.
