Even in the pit of darkness, the pistol had a certain glow about it. It’s sleek, hard barrel was smooth beneath her hand, it’s texture fine and utter perfection in a world that was far from it.
Not long ago the world was a much different place. One where people were courteous, kind, and gentle. Friends were exactly that, and not blood sucking two-faced traitors. Men weren’t cool and detached little boys looking to get out of dinner and go straight to dessert.
Her reflection was no longer someone she recognized. Strong features that radiated confidence and poise were replaced by repulsive sunken eyes and bony cheeks. With hair as greasy and in dire need of attention as hers, it was amazing the woman would even show up in the mirror. It was abundantly clear she was one who rarely left the bed and Netflix unless she had to.
Days stretched into weeks that turned into months with no sign of a change in season. Mental exhaustion was the consequence of the outside world and its negativity. She continued to crumble under the weight of the comments, rumors, and snide remarks. She would crumble until she’d break.
At which point she was to shatter or stand up and fight.
Her finger hovered nervously over the trigger, her eyes squeezed shut as she anxiously anticipated the shot. She counted with breaths.
The shot rang out, muffled by her earbuds. Quickly she opened her eyes and saw the small hole in the target some twenty yards ahead of her. The emotion that overwhelmed her body was indescribable in the best way and she couldn’t help but smile.
Not today my bullies.
For today she chose to stand.