scriptuurient: it was raining. it was 1 am on october 5th, of course it was raining. that was when i
scriptuurient: it was raining. it was 1 am on october 5th, of course it was raining. that was when it always rained, every damn time. max wondered, for a moment, if that would ever change. if he could only stop the rain, what then? he wasn’t running. he’d tried that last time. and the time before that. he let his head fall back, thudding against the glass of the window behind his head. water pooled in his hair and trickled down his cheek. it was the perfect downpour to mask tears, but he wasn’t crying, not this time. he liked the view. a pity to cloud it. “you coulda picked a less predictable spot. made this more interesting.” he didn’t turn at the voice, didn’t turn at the footsteps, didn’t turn as he felt something coldly familiar press to his temple. “we don’t have to do this again.” his voice was dead, void. no impassioned pleas, not this time. it wouldn’t do any good. “what else is there?” there was a click. he didn’t flinch. “just – please. you have to forgive me. please forgive me.” “maybe next time around.” he didn’t have to turn to see the smile on his face, all at once vicious and tender. he pulled the trigger. –– it was sunny. it was 8 am on october 4th, of course it was sunny. nine in the afternoon blared from his phone, announcing the new day, as it always did. max stared up at the ceiling and finally let himself weep. UNTITLED || stories i may never write -- source link