I can't breathe

Fuck! I always forget about that one goddamn floorboard. Please don't wake up please don't wake up please don't wake up. The latch on the front door always clicks so loudly. One more turn of the handle of the I'm out of this crumby house. Shit.

Sky, go back to bed. No, I promise this time I'll come back. I always do, don't I? Don't tell Mum or Dad will ya kid? Go back to sleep.

Sky shuffles back into Charlies room. She always sleeps there when he's away in Hollywood. James and I always used to make fun of her for that. that was before James left. He's probably skiing with Alsatians right now.

God this fucking elevator is taking forever. Come on. Lobby please. Yes, thank you.

When I leave the elevator I'm about to walk out of the building but I see someone. He's standing there, six feet tall in tight jeans that only accentuate the fact this his legs make him look like an anorexic twelve year old girl. I realise that I'm staring, he motions for me to come over. In this light he kind of looks like James. He starts talking to me but I'm not listening. I feel like I'm starting to freak him out, just staring at him like this. He's clearly a prostitute and I think he just realised I'm in no state to be interested, and I'm also not gay. He's losing interest. Bye James!

I leave the lobby as quick as I can. i know he's not following me but I feel like running. The throbbing in my head matches the pounding on the pavement. I run. I'm running for as long and as fast as I can. No one can see me. No one can hear me. I'm immortal, invincible! It reminds me of when I was with James. James. He's probably out in the Sahara growing cacti. The pounding slows down but the throbbing doesn't. Goddamn. I feel it increase. My head hurts ad the cold wind isn't numbing me pain. I'm alone. I was always alone. I see a 'XXX' store up ahead. 

No thank you I'm just browsing. The large woman behind the counter is staring to me. I know I have a couple of hundred dollars in my wallet but I don't feel like buying anything. She's scaring me. There's so much clutter in the store I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. I see a row of handguns on display behind the counter. I'm dizzy. Maybe I shouldn't have run for so long. Her glare is menacing and manipulating. I cant breathe. I feel the need to buy something and then get then hell out of there.

Its cold and windy again. Even the old homeless man trying to sleep is scared of me. He gives up his bench by the lake for me to sit on. Thanks. The gun is heavy in my hands. I feel sick holding it. It was secondhand and, oh god, is that some dried blood on the handle? I'm staring at the gun so intently I'm sure I could draw every detail of it. I study it and wonder how many people held this gun before me. How many people had it killed? What difference would one more body make? Would it hurt? I heard that a bullet to the head is far less painful than overdosing on sleeping pills. James would know. He was in the army before he went sailing around the world on his yacht. You know, I'm sure if James was here he would volunteer to pull the trigger for me. That's just the kind of friend James is... was. Always looking out for others. James and I haven't been in touch recently. Things just happen, people grow apart and realise that the other person would be better off without them. So, in order to spare the other person pain, the cease to exist. Though, surprisingly, although I'm sure he meant well, having the person you love disappear completely off the face of the earth hurts a lot more than knowing that they prefer the company of another to your exclusive attention.  You're always left with these goddamn questions that no one has the answer for. He left me alone. He's probably supporting rebel leaders in North Korea now.

His hair was long and greasy, always hanging in his face. I could hardly ever see his eyes, so I imagined them to be a dark green. I ignored the fact that they were really blue. Green suited James better.

The gun weighs surprisingly heavier than my thoughts. I cant concentrate. The midnight quacking of the ducks are so goddamn irritating. Who would miss me? I can feel my cheeks stinging cold from the wind and my legs are getting cramped. I'm staring at the ducks The lake hasn't frozen over yet and reflects the black of the sky. The ducks are sitting there on the sheet of water. Only moving when the wind pushes them. My life would be so goddamn easy if I were a duck. The gun drops from my hands onto the grass. I'm getting colder. The wind hist me on my chest and icy shards are shoved into my thighs. I leave my clothes in a pile, next to the bench, and next to the gun. The water looks so solid, I'm sure I could stand on it. The ducks are watching me, I know they want me to succeed. I'm cleansing myself. The water rises up to my waist, then my chest. I can hardly  breathe. I lie on my back, floating, staring up at the black sky, studded with stars. I form an angel with my arms and legs, the kind you used to do in the snow as a kid. The ducks come closer to me. They form a barrier around me from all the hate and corruption n the world. I feel weightless and free. I can glide through life forever, Just like a duck.