Out With a Bang

BANG

The sound of a gun, followed by someone hitting the floor. You kneel down to hold him as he struggles to hold on. He gasps for his last breath. Then he’s gone. You let him go, his head hit the floor heavy. You place a hand on his shoulder in apology automatically. Your hand covers the wound. The bright red pushing between your fingers contrasts the dark atmosphere of the warehouse.

You’re home, blood stained hands folded into your arms. You just ate… something. Doesn’t matter, he’s gone. Your friends are coming over soon, you have to get the place ready for them. It’s a mess. Pillows thrown, a table overturned. The couch is missing. The couch he bought for the house. Why is there glass in the carpet? What did you break? Apart from… you didn’t want him to die, you didn’t think he would end up—

It’s cold outside. You’re wearing a scarf and gloves, but the weather seeps through and makes you feel heavy. Wet? Whatever, the bus is almost here, you check your watch, just another 3, 5 minutes max. Why can’t the buses run every 10 minutes instead of 20? You know it’s a small town but, seriously, 20 minutes? That’s such a long time to wait in the snow. You check your watch again, just another 7 minutes. You see a man approach the bus bench, trudging through the knee high snow. He looks familiar. He reaches the bench, turns to you and asks, “More sunscreen?”.

“Yeah, I burn real quick.” You take the bottle from him and squirt out a little bit too much. You slap it onto your chest as fast as possible making an audible slap. This is your first vacation with him after all, you don’t want to come off as a klutz. He gives you a strange look but drops it to go into the bathroom. It was a nice hotel room on the beach, you’re going swimming. You’re scared of the ocean, but that’s not gonna stop you from attempting not to drown in it! You walk out towards the beach, hand in hand with him. You lay out your beach towel and watch him jump into the ocean, carefree and happy. He waves for you to join him as a rather large wave crashes onto him. You lose him for a second, but he flails until he's standing once more. You call out to him, “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up, we already settled this!”

“No, you settled it. I’m still pissed off!” He snaps back. You’re both half-dressed, very drunk, and one of you is a little stoned, you can't remember which one. “No you’re not, you don’t even remember why it started, neither do I! It was some dumb shit that you did—” “That I did?! You cheated on me. That’s why we’re fighting.” You don’t know what to say. “That’s what I thought. You're such an asshole.” He was right, you concede to yourself. You were, in fact, an asshole. But you don't need to give him the satisfaction. Your continued silence causes him to pull on his shirt and grab his belt. The door slams as you think to say, “I'm sorry."

“Oh, it’s okay sweetheart. You didn’t mean to hurt him, you were just playing around. Isn’t that right?” Your mom is hugging you tightly as you cry. Your best friend is on the floor, alone, also crying. “He did mean to, he hit me, he hit me!” “That’s not nice to say, come now. Hush, you’re alright sweetpea.” You continue crying. You feel bad, after all. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to act when you feel bad? You’re not good at a lot of things, but you’re pretty good at acting, at least.

“I got the role!” Your family screams congratulations. You’re first role in an actual theatre, not high school. You know you’re excited. You know you’re happy. Your family is for sure. “Now you’ve just gotta memorize everything. Phew, I know I couldn’t!” your aunt laughs to cap off the sentiment. You laugh too, sociably, “I don’t have too many lines, so I’m not that concerned. Anyways, happy birthday Mom, your son is an actor now!”

“Oh an actor is he?” His one friend says emphatically, “a purveyor of the fine Shakespeare?”. “That’s him, my own personal Shakespeare, in the flesh.” “I’m not Shakespeare, though I hope to write someday, at the moment I’m just an actor.” His other friend chips in “And he has aspirations and motivation? My advice? Hold on and don’t let go bud.” You hide your annoyance with his friends behind a smile. At least they liked you. “Yeah, don’t let go.”

“Don’t let go! Stay with me! You can make it!” This workout is torture. Literal torture. You’re sweating, you can barely breathe. Is that taste blood or are you just hallucinating? Health is important and all, and you’re supporting him, but this is just too much. You’re not the one who gained 24 pounds in a month. Why are you doing this? “I need a break. I’m dying.” “Go ahead, I have another 2 reps.” You leave the room made of windows and enter a larger room filled with workout equipment, not those devilish stationary bikes you left behind, but other similarly torturous devices. Muscle-heads populate them, grunting and breathing intently. Masochists, you think as you walk to the water fountain. After taking a sizable gulp, you turn to see one of those muscle-heads in line behind you. This one seems… alright. Well, gorgeous, actually. He’d look great on an Instagram feed—BANG.

Black.

You’re in a warehouse. One of his friend’s warehouse. They rent the place out to companies who need more room, or something like that. It doesn’t matter. He’s coming. Or should be, you texted him to meet you here for a surprise. You hear a car pull up. A door slamming shut. He’s here. “Hello?” He calls from the entrance. “Over here! Around the corner.” He peaks around the wall before shyly stepping into the open. “Hey.” You don’t respond. “So what are we doing here?” You smile, “I know you’ve been working hard at the gym and what not, so I wanted to give you a surprise! Some motivation.” “Aw hun, that’s so sweet. But, like, here? In an empty warehouse?” he looks around, shakes his head, then says, “What’s the surprise?” “Come over here and I’ll show you.” You add a wink, but you’re not sure if he saw it. Regardless, he complies. He’s a foot away from you, he turns his hands towards you, “Soooo…” “I’m breaking up with you.” BANG. The recoil was surprisingly easy to handle, you were worried.