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A Story by OldTrendTirry

give it a shot for me

Chapter 1

A rich ex-boyfriend

The Argument was silent. I walked away angry, confused, and above all, tired. Tired of him and his stubborn ugly habits. If I were going to make this a short story, I'd pull the hidden gun in my braw, walk right back in there, and shoot him in the back of the head. However, a couple of escapee girls I once called friends tell me the news has no longer been telling the truth about prisons, physical and sexual assault are all too common for girls going in without a gang, with unnatural food having the texture of squashed bugs, given out semi-frequently, if at all. I know I'm better off homeless, making my own way out in this Sinister city. Committing a crime in this district has an even harsher penalty for someone with my beautiful caramel skin.

“I’m not gonna make it so easy for him. “

Thoughts of finding little ways to destroy the oversized house filled my head. I walk in my red, smooth robe. I didn't care if it was a gift or not; I deserve this overpriced robe, (and I can't live without it.) The Stairs outside the room spiral down in a hypnotizing nauseous way. Skinned with fake blue marble, I grab the railing, I lean forward, dip my head into the Royal Blue of gold highlights spiraling endlessly, like a deer going for a drink in a clean night lit lake. The end of the stairs (and the whole house for that matter) was dark and dimly light by the moon and stars shining through the glass roof. The bottom of the stairs gave the image of the eye of a dead horse. I take a deep breath in.

“What the f**k am I even doing here?” Massaging the back of my head, I blink and partially open my eyes again, but the tiredness and lack of sleep were really getting to me at this moment, I could feel them dragging shut, ever closer to a full close with every blink. “First, I quit my job because of some rumor, and now I'm dumping my sugar daddy. oh god, why did I ever leave home?”

I straighten and begin to walk the twisted journey down. Thinking of my mom only ever made me feel sad, angry, and even worse regretful. Oh, how I loved her cooking and the smell of our clean house every Monday. Sometimes, I wish I could remember our good memories more easily, but they almost completely disappear. What it was like to live with her the year before I left. Our big and small fights over arguments when I think about them didn't even matter; always had one if not both of us being petty, what mattered was the string connecting the arguments, the feeling like she never gave me the respect she expected of me, and she didn't even know it. The thought of curiosity about where my sisters could be at this moment. It must have been five or seven years since I last saw them or even spoke, even longer since the last time they spoke and didn't have it turn into an argument. Maybe I could go back after this. could I go back right now? No, never, my mother might not even live in the same house anymore, if she's even still alive. Please be alive.

Suddenly, my brain gave a nagging burning sensation in the middle of my head, my body felt its self being hugged by needles or some knives were poking around my nerves, especially in my back.

“AUGH!! its unbearable ! Jesus, what is this tremendous pain, I cant even think.”

Every step echoed all the stomps of My heels, loud and catty steps like a dancer entering the stage, my head and hip shook to the slow rhythm of it, trying to shake off some of the pain. One hand covered my eye, the other held the cold wide rail. Then suddenly the pain completely disappeared alongside my movement, with a half-finished step, it was like an invisible chain hugged my whole body tightly, still, silence filled the stairs again, until it didn't. a meaty walk, like the sound of cold ham unsticking from the wall, began to make a trail behind me, completely out of my view. I knew who it was, not just because we were the only ones in the house,(other than security) but his once smooth, deep voice, now felt Sinister, I was all too familiar with him.

"your leaving me? even after getting matching tattoos? I have your name and picture on me!-"

"boo hoo, I didn't tell you to get that. Why the hell can't I move!" I tried to scream it all out but it seem I could only think of doing it, the words never left my mouth. odd i truly have no control of any of my self? what is this?

"- I knew you'd do this to me someday so if we've both being completely honest with our feelings, your tattoo was putting more than just ink in your skin" his walks approached me closers and closer, his voice was noisy from his approach and growing anger. "But I just need to be honest, I can't believe you'd really leave me. You were actually going to leave me. And for What! something so minor, sleeping with someone else, and yes, maybe it happened a few times before this, but I didn't even need to pay her like I did before we met! It's like you make me this giant beacon magnet for women. Ever since we've started dating, they flock to me it just so hard to say no. Look, I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry about Sophia, Jessica, and Ashley."

He continued to talk like a lost, drunken man no real narrative rhythm to his monologue, just yappin and yappin like his entitled, immature self always did.

"Who the f**k is Ashley!?" The worlds still couldn't leave my mind

Unexpectedly, my step down the stairs continues, and I completely lose my balance. Was this a dream, or a nightmare? With my right hand still tightly gripping the rail to stop my fall. I then became frozen once more, with my right hand being the only thing holding me from falling down this bumpy slide, to steal a phrase from my mom, Id be eating s**t. My arm began to strain; the tension gave me a burning sensation along my biceps and triceps, like after a long, vigorous workout. He grabs my hand from the railing. My blood drained from my body as my soul almost fell ahead of me, the gun bounced with the three rubber bands stretching with my movement, one holding the barrel with the two holding the grip, tied to the hook and eyes of my braw strap, loosening up and began to slip.

"Sorry, baby-" he spoke

Don't you dare call me baby!

"-I didn't mean to frighten you, or yell at you for wanting to leave."

He yanked me back to his arms like a still mannequin. I suppose that's what I was at this moment, a very still and angry statued woman. One arm held my shoulder scarily close to the gun. however, he seemed preoccupied with his other hand, which held and squeezed my butt. In this very moment, I wished I were falling down these endless flights of stairs. no really, I truly think it's better than being in this man's arms, right now I would rather be eating s**t.

"besides baby. you know your the only one for me." his tone shifted to a salesmen like pitch as he continued to squish my butt

The anger this man had given me was beyond a boiling point, if we keep the same metaphor the water has evaporated completely and the metal pot touching the flame had to begin to shine a Bright Yellow hue as it dripped to the flame like melting ice. no human being had ever angered me to this degree, no man had betrayed my trust to the Level, this b*****d caring me up the stairs. Id prove my self wrong in a couple of days, for now however I don't think I could care less who I find in prison, murder was now a valid option I wished for. he continued to talk calm and clerk like, As if I would even care to hear what he has to say. he truly did not understand to the degree that I hated him, and care not for what he even said anymore.

He walk the stairs, with my head next to his chest. He took deep breaths in-between his long rants that almost rattled his mechanical heart, it carried in human like rhythm, I paid no mind to it, my mind was lost in thought still worried for the gun that Shuffle silently in my back. and its not just a rusty gun. It was The Rusty Gun, a gun from The barbaric years. I think the gun had in-graved in it the year 1920. almost Thousand years ago by now. This very much could be the last of its kind, a priceless relic that I'm sure would fetch me some good Bread,(Money.) but I would never sell this gun, I had it because I wanted it. I can name an endless things in this house half the size and twice worth more than this rusty hand cannon, however I didn't want any of it, if its for money my mother always said money comes and goes. I had given this gun so much personal value (Maybe with some of my deep love for historic warfare.) that's why I left the argument unfinished, he rambled on about the bots inside me like if I was not informed of it all. I saw it all on our big TV with channels exclusive for people of his class and wealth. The real stories as well as some secret more conspiratorial channels he pays for, channels with story so outlandish I just cant help but watch, It goes like this.

Some months back the US government, specifically the marines core and the air force had some blueprints leak of a black pill, you'd place it under your tongue, it would melt but in reality there were tiny bots that moved through you and mostly found there way to your brain, these sluggish robots had the ability to enhance your strength. besides the side effects and reportedly was also rumored to only have a 20% success rate they also forgot to account for the fact that wars for a long time now had not been fought with the flesh and blood of man, it hadn't not for a long time. After the leak a couple of the the scientist and engineers were "arrested" (though there whereabouts have never been made public.) and the blueprints were consider in-human by the canned pickled brains that run our congress, who have not cared for the regular American citizen for a long time. So I remained unsurprised when the ban was blocked, the TV host didn't say by who but when the story finally reached the more conspiratorial channels the roomers and theory's came in swarms, This story was hot enough news the public had there own stories they passed around, it was so mainstream people at work talked about all day for a while, some say it was other countries that lobbied congress, or NASA trying to make super soldiers to send to mars, I however believe it was the prison complex who's big players were seen more frequently, wasn't sure if it was or wasn't I just know who ever got away with it needed more under the table test subjects and I got the golden ticket to be one of this country lab rats, and my body being able to not move was these bots controlling my nervous system, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

When he approached the bed I was begin to get really scared. It was still done, I had just switched the sheets and could feel my self cutting through slipping in-between all those smooth blankets, with the smell of lavender that I loved so much. seven pillows laid symmetrically on top, all matching the vibrant purple pattern of the comforter, but there was just one of them I really wanted and I always placed it in the same spot, on my side of the bed, at the very front. some good sleep would go well, even do me some good.

he walked nice and slow saying something of his dad again and his tech friends, with a laugh of old money to his own jokes. like he always did, I forgot how good it felt to ignore him and just give all my attention to the bed, we approached the bed slowly as I could almost feel myself floating heavenly to sleep, my tired eyes that I have been forcing open began to give in. if he'd place me gently, wrapping me with love id imagine id already being asleep and leaving all these problems for tomorrow.

" And that's how my dad maybe his team and built our empire-"

a story he always told drunk and/or high, high on something he spoke this story fast starring at my chest the whole time, that usually meant he had probably been sniffing speed tonight it was a placeholder drug if he ran out of his strong stuff.

"-oh s**t!" interrupting himself and popping his eyes open wide "I just realized i really need to pee!" he then Flung me onto the bed, the same way you might try flip heavy trash into a bin that stood taller then you. he bolted with a tumbling run to the bathroom as something hit the floor. it wasn't the remote which he healed in his hand but seemingly let go of whatever kept me still.

I unfroze in the middle of the air, falling disoriented onto the bed was not the worse, after my soft crash lading I awoke again and reminded of one of the million reasons of why I hate him. why I hate this man. he can just never treat me gently, it almost feels like a luxury its self to be treated good again, I know he holds no respect for me or our relationship, UGH. I'm reminded of how much I want to kill him. Then a thought rushed my mind.

"where's the gun…?!?"

I turn up and around like a cat landing on her feet, I dig and berried my hands in and all over the bed as I realize I could no longer feel the gun to my braw. my stomach felt twisted and dry, with my head dizzy almost discombobulated like if it struggled to obey or even listen to me. I study the room looking for the gun as I blink my eyes wide open in-between every blink trying to shake off how sleepy I also felt, something that just hadn't left my mind yet, I give second and last glace at my pillow.

Around the room nothing felt too strange in its place and the orange gun could be anywhere. to the left of the bed was the bathroom door that was slightly open letting me hear the toilet urine echo the walls, next to the door was a small black table meant for books probably, (we mostly just did coke on it.) in front of me was the big TV he supposably got for me, however he seems to always throw a fit when I want to use it, and it always had to be the movies he wanted to watch. to my right was the smallest book shelf of the house with my favorite half read books, a table and two chairs. There it was. under his chair. the sound of the toilet flushing made me jumpy and jerk my head to face the noise.

"Should I really do it? am I really going through with it? phf yeah right, am I supposed to jump for the gun and run away? or even shoot him while he comes out? no, no-no. that could never work, not for as long as he has that control... that control to my body!" my hands curl to a ball as I bite my teeth, squish my brow and release my anger out through my eyes instead of words.

he walked out. yes. without washing his hands, I immediately wag a figure and raise my hand to eye level.

"Don't even think about touching me with those dirty hands. this will make him place down the remote."

a sagging face frowned, so often it did when his reluctant nature expressed its self, he tilted his head slightly like a confused dog. his thumb shifted around the remote moving between all the countless buttons.

"I defiantly cant let him live, not just for what he had done or put me through, but for my freedom as well. that's what I wanted most I suppose, to be free."

he must have noticed my quick glances to the remote. he smiled and rocked his head back in forth, almost silently saying no.

his demure change in the mist of this conversation so drastically that for a moment, it was as if I was starring unto his fathers eyes. That often meant he was planning to share some bad new.

"this remote cannot be destroyed, for your safety, you will learn how helpful, this could almost be called a gift, we were paid for however there is what some could say may be a kill switch. and-"

"a kill switch? you put a bomb in me? what kind of reaction do you honestly expect me to give for your all amazing gift? I mean do you honestly hear your self!"

He gave a long blink followed with a bothered sigh with a semi awake glare, his fathers looks dispensary but I could still almost feel it behind that mask he carried everywhere, even while drunk. a mask I so desperately ignored for far too long. one of those things that once you notice you can never unseen.

"this remote has a delicate connection to the little slug bots in your body, if you break, go to far, or outright loose the remote-"

"If I loose it? why don't you give it to me to I don't loose it."

"Just listen for a second, let me finish. this is important. The bots can disconnect with the best case scenario is they do nothing, but anything can truly happen, they can clog a blood vesicle, stab your brain or some muscle or even just outright kill you. this is serious OK. Ill go wash my hands for you but ill teach you when I comeback everything this remote can do, its more than just freeze you."

his walk to the bathroom was joined with his dick swinging forward and back opposite to his movement, dripping some pee he didn't pitch out for the toilets mouth. his sloth walk led him to the door, he pushed it open hard and laud. he placed the remote on the black coke table, he looked back at me giving me a wink until I saw his gaze focus behind me, I'm sure it wasn't true but my mind fear the worse as his eyes squinted. I wasn't going to turn with him and feed his suspicions. I cut between his line of sight, giving him the eyes I gave to men when wanting there attention. a quick snap as he focused on me his expression shifted reflecting the romantic intention as he almost began to undo his walk to the bathroom.

"Go. Wash. Your, hands."

his upset look of a spoiled brat as he sloth another turn to enter the bathroom. with the click of the bathroom light's I quickly snake my way out of the bed, grabbing the gun, my palm and fingers hugged the grip like a if it was a perfect match from heaven, always meant to be, as if my hang secretly had an itch I never knew and it had just been scratched. my hand belonged here. the sink water begins to run as my Sinister silent walk to him begins.

the gun was almost cartoonish, big and bulky, especially compared to more modern handguns, its character still unmatched. more clearly now I could read the date as September 21 1911, with more words and numbers around it that I didn't fully understand other then its caliber. I twist it to see all its angles, with my thumb I scratch it ever so slightly and the rust pealed off like sand, giving a weird smell, a smell I'm not too sure how to describe. all its curves and lines of the gun spark some interest in me, the mechanics of it wasn't too complicated at least compared to more modern weapons, just some iron and black powder. I pull the back of the gun to me with my other hand, in slow motion and look inside the ejection port of the gun, to see a bullet in the chamber, I at least knew there was one about to enter its chamber. it was like a gold cylinder body, it had a copper head with a distinct look of a flower blooming. once I pull all the way back I let go. it snitched a loud click.

"hey baby what was that? it almost sounded li-"

It had been long overdue, I hadn't even entered the bathroom all the way, just enough for the back of his head entered the line of sight of the barrel, then I squeeze the trigger and shot him. the explosion of it was as loud as it was blinding, it completely destroyed a third of the gun with its orange debree acting like a dust-ball that sprinkled onto my eyes and nose, its sharp, tangy, mushroom-like scent clogged my nose fully, I try wipe away what felt like hot sand in my eyes.

I didn't see the bullet cut through his head, or the fancy mirror shattering falling to the floor with him. it was hard to rub off the burning sensation making my eyes water filled. once my eyes painted the world again I saw a pool of blood with scattered glass everywhere. his body body flopped like that of a rag doll, lumped together in a pyramid shape, his head rested a top and acted like a fountain of blood, with most of it pouring out the back of his head, his face had more exit wounds then bullets I shot, the biggest two where in one on his cheek and another on his forehead, his broken skull gave him an oddly shaped face that sunk in unnatural places.

my knees anchor me to the ground as I curl into a snail shape, "no, no, no…" my whispers became a yell "no, no. No…" I spring up my head up, lay in my knees like a person of prayer, my hands cupped together. "it wasn't worth it… anything but you! I'm so sorry, you are worth so much more than this moment! I thought you were stronger then that" I held the gun like I would a dead bird in my arms. each hand held what was left of the gun, its pointy and round ends. the part that had blown off was where I knew the bullet was shot from, middle top and the backside scattered all around the floor and still partially in my eyes, or so is what I told my self at the time to explain my tears. "we… we were suppose to both get out of here, 19 century gun I should have never waisted you on such a stupid guy, after your long story this is how it had to end? with my petty argument… I just thought you'd be stronger than that…" my words mumble as I begin to cry. I cant remember the last time I cried for anyone or anything like this before, it felt a little good, even if it was for something so stupid. Its not stupid.

I stand and face the corpse once more that had fallen over now, I could tell even the fall was sluggish as he limply laid down, his head still pumping a small stream of blood, I spit at him. the loogie truly felt like the missing cherry on top for this whole fucked up mess.

I look down at my hands and notice how much they shake, my right hand rattled the parts of the gun still left.

(want to know what happens next? say so)