Janie

• Tayla Needham, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

‘If you’re going to hold a gun to someone’s head, you have to be prepared to pull the trigger.’

The advice from her cousin echoes in her mind, a constant ringing in her ears. She looks down at his writhing body, a silent witness to the thick red that fills his mouth. She is still, like marble. Her stance is confident and sure, her shoulders set in a perfectly straight line. She doesn't regret what she’s done.

He coughs, spraying the red onto his crisp plaid shirt and the carpet that fades beneath him. “J…” He slurs, “J…Janie.” His voice is hoarse. He is dying now.

She narrows her eyes slightly, lifting one of her eyebrows and tilting her head to the left. Her eyes remain targeted at the hole in his chest as more red dribbles from the open wound, staining his over-sized plaid shirt. The rip in the fabric is minuscule and could be easily fixed, not that it matters. He’ll never wear it again.

‘How long before he croaks?’ She thought bitterly, sinking her teeth into her tongue.

“J-Janie…Don’t-” He interrupts himself with a thick cough, the red erupting from his mouth and coating his chin in liquid. She snarls, lifting a foot and pressing her bare heel onto the wound, causing him to let out a feeble squeak of pain. Her teeth clench as she forces her heel against the blotchy skin and rough fabric.

The man heaves, attempting to maintain a stable breathing pattern. “Jane…Janie.” His voice is quiet. An unwanted whisper to her. She glares down at his dying figure, becoming tired of his efforts. The shotgun is raised, her bruised fingertip planted on the trigger as she slowly squeezed it.

“Jane-” His last word is lost in the deafening sound of a gun, as was his last breath. His body convulses, causing her to lift her foot from his chest and step back with her finger remaining on the trigger.

Janie tried to tell them. She told anyone she could trust. Her therapist didn't believe her, nor did her mother, who couldn't see through her blind love for the man. Janie had no other choice. She won’t plead guilty for what she has done. Janie knows there was only one option left for her. The gun.