"These bright lights have always blinded me." ~My Chemical Romance, "Famous Last Words"
He huddled against the wall, leaning on it as it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. It was beyond terrible, the worst sort of betrayal in a long list of betrayals, all weighing down on his conscience at once, crushing him, unbearable.
He could make all the usual excuses about a sense of duty, and upholding his loyalty, and even that his victim had deserved what he got. None of it was worth anything against the overwhelming sadness that he'd felt when his hero, who he'd been forever indebted to since his life was saved at the age of sixteen, had looked at him with such disappointment and hurt. He'd said he was sorry, but that was equally worthless given the magnitude of the deed.
He was utterly alone now, since he knew he couldn't go back to work after this and be applauded for his "victory" that was worse than the bitterest defeat. He couldn't stand the thought of knowing what he'd done to the people who had once befriended him, either, and he was cast out on all sides.
It was fitting, then, he figured with a harsh, mirthless laugh. He, who had been doomed to live miserable and alone since his mother's death, practically orphaned by his father, and now he had turned traitor to all those who trusted him.
He would die alone, the way the world wanted him to.
He raised his laser blaster to his temple, but thought he'd better make this shot really count for something, since he only got to do it once. So he placed the barrel against the tender cartilage and faintly humming heartbeat in his throat. He swallowed convulsively, stricken by a sudden wave of fear at the thought of death: inescapable, permanent, dark. But he deserved no less.
What should his last words be, whispered into the cold loneliness of an uncaring night? He was not so childish as to try some cliché like "Goodbye cruel world," or a final note telling everyone he was sorry- they'd never read it if they knew it was from him. Instead he forced his shaking jaw to open, made his lips move, and spoke to everyone he knew and everything he was leaving behind:
"So long and goodnight."
No one heard the blast or saw the light, but he pulled the trigger and fell through the curtains in solitude, into peaceful, sorrowful blackness.