Take Me With You

• Kyla Bagnall, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2010

My chest ached and my lungs burned. I now payed only little heed to the tears streaming down my dirty cheeks. I knelt on the cold, hard floor, choking. He was gone, gone. Now I was alone in this cruel, dark world. In my desolation I had but one comfort. It was a small object; I clung desperately to my only hope. It fitted snugly in my hand, my fingers moulding easily around the cold black metal. Looking at it reminded me if the only thing keeping me sane: I would not be alone for much longer. He was gone. The thought tore my heart. He promised – he promised we would never be apart. But then he left me. My breath raked my lungs and, trembling violently, I lifted the object to my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t know what would happen; I didn’t care. Anything would be better than here, in this unloving, lonely universe. He was gone. Please, take me with you, I thought. I squeezed the trigger.