|The Suicide of Jake Johnson (standard:drama, 1283 words)|
|Author: Nathaniel MIller||Added: May 15 2016||Views/Reads: 1106/534||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Story Based on Prompt Activity: There was only one way out....|
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story “What's the bad news?” “According to your tests, there is a strong sign of cancer in your brain, in the form of a tumor.” The doctor said bluntly, “Its terminal and you have six months to live.” Jake gasped loudly, as he sat there, in silent shock. “Brain c-cancer?” He whispered, “Are you sure?” “Yes, and kemo won't help you at the stage it is at.” Doc Roberts told him, “It's at stage two, and almost to stage three.” “You have very little hope of recovery.” The Doctor said, “That's the reason behind your mood and headaches.” “Six months you say?” “About that. If I were you, I would prepare for a very nasty outcome to this.” Roberts warned, “Violent mood swings, memory loss, headaches and other issues with the body. The cancer is in your body too, but mostly in the brain.” “S-so what do I do now?” “Enjoy life.” He said, “And hope it claims you quickly.” Jake got up, and he exited in silence, getting into the car without a word to his girlfriend who had come with him and had been shopping instead of going with him to the office. “You alright, honey?” She quipped, and he said nothing. “Honey?” “I'm fine babe.” He lied, and they drove on in silence. He dropped her off at her apartment, living in the same building and he staggered toward the door of his apartment down the hall. He did not cry, whimper or think about what is about to come as he downed bottle after bottle and shot after shot of whiskey and scotch, trying to deaden the pain in his head, that throbbed starting at his temples. He went to fetch his revolver, cleaned, oiled, and ready, and one by one he checked the rounds as he loaded it. It was the final resolution he had for this terminal condition that he now faced. “I might as well just do it.” He said, “There is no point of living. Not like this.” He thought of Sally, his girl, and thought of the note he should leave her. His hands shook as he peered at the blank paper, trying to hand-write a note and his writing illegible as he tried to write out the note that he would leave by his body once he did the deed. But he didn't know what to say and it was driving him crazy. He didn't expect to miss, neither did he think of heaven or hell for what he was about to do. Jake finally tossed the paper in the trash and took up the revolver, hefting it in his hand. He felt the cool metal of the grip as he held it, straight up, pointing it, leveling it at his head. “No, this won't work...” He thought, and he pushed the barrel up through his chin, and he shook his head. His hands shaking, he put the barrel in his mouth and his fingers sought for the trigger. Finding it gently, he reached up to cock the cold metal of the hammer of the pistol and he heard the ominous click as the first round was chambered in the magazine. Little by little he began seeking the safety, and again he heard the click noise associated with it. A gunshot sounded, and the last thing he sensed was the pain of the bullet strike the back of his throat. He felt the hot metal of the slug as it cut away at the back of his body, piercing his flesh and cutting through into his brain. His final sight was blackness as death moved in to take him. His body fell with a thump as there was pounding on the door moments later, in which someone had heard his final solution. A crack and the splintering of wood sounding later, as his neighbors and his girlfriend swarmed into the room. Sally screamed as the smoking pistol lay next to his body. The note read two words, and Sally peered at it in silence as she read it in his unmistakable scrawl. Two words which she had not expected to see. “The end.” Tweet
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