Bad Therapy

You could see the fear in her eyes; she trembled as she reached for the door, her gun in the other hand.
“Don't...” I whispered to her. She placed her hand on the door knob; slowly she began to turn it. I couldn’t take it, I looked away.
The last thing I heard was her scream. The last thing I felt was a sudden whack on my head. The last thing I smelt was smoke. The last thing I tasted...was blood.

It’d been months since Judi’s death. Yet it felt like only yesterday. The therapy never helped either. And they assured me they’d catch whoever did it. But nothing was being done.

I sat in my office. Just sat there, thinking. A stack of paperwork sitting at my computer. I looked out the window. The sun was shining yet somehow shadow and clouds blurred my vision. My office was on the top floor, it was a long way down. I wondered what would happen if I fell. The wind on my face, blowing away my misery. I stood up and thumped my head against the window looking down. I overlooked the empty car park to the imposing buildings. There was hardly anyone around. If I died, who would know? Probably some random bystander. Then who would go to my funeral? Bunch of tight asses looking for something in my will. I was angry, at the world. The people in it, the messed up people who kill for fun. Why were they like that? Too many questions tumbled in my mind and I couldn’t answer them. It frustrated me. I was sick and tired of being frustrated. Now I was annoyed. Annoyed at being frustrated because I was angry. I was going to die someday. Why couldn’t it be today? Why wait?

As I drove home I looked at the passenger seat, where Judi would usually sit on a Wednesday. We liked taking turns driving. I stood outside the front door, for some reason I did this every day. I guess, I was waiting. Waiting for my hands to reach the knob and turn it slowly, to have the horrid memories of fire, smoke and blood rush back to me, only to close the door and spend another forlorn night sitting in my room. I stood outside; I reached for the door knob and turned it slowly. Only, the memories didn’t rush back. I never got the chance to think. A massive explosion threw me backwards onto the concrete, my head bounced on the curb and everything started to blur. I saw my house up in flames, chunks of it missing; thick grey smoke arose from it. My strength was failing me. A dark figure stood above me, looking down with satisfaction at my twisted face.
I gave a delusional smile and chuckled the words. “Dirty rat, you found me...”
I felt my legs being lifted by a second figure, and as I was dragged away, I slipped into obscurity.

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