Jimmy, Johnny, and James

“Just do it for God’s sake!”

My hands trembled as he stared at me with terrified brown eyes.

“I can’t, Jimmy. I just can’t do it.”

“You can’t do shit, Johnny. Give me the gun.” I handed it over to him, flinching at the frightening excitement flushing his face.

“Do you feel sorry, yet?” he screamed at the man. The man shuddered, and tears splashed down his duct-taped face.

Jimmy raised the silver revolver, blue eyes popping.

“Jimmy, no!” James lunged at him, but he wasn’t quick enough. Blood splattered the beige wall, and brains covered us. I stood there in shock, Jimmy laughed, rejoicing in the blood, James sank to the floor, demons seeming to pull at his face.

James screamed; Jimmy and I looked at each other.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you both!”

Jimmy laughed. “James, c’mon, don’t be such a-” Then, James wiped his smile off with a pull of the trigger.

“James, what have you done?” I whimpered as we watched Jimmy’s body shudder and go still.

James shuddered, snot and tears dripping down his face, before putting the gun in his own mouth.



“So, officer, what’ve we got?”

“Two dead men, a homicide-suicide.” We stared at the gruesome sight: A man, head blown off, another with two shots in his face.

“So, that’s the one who escaped?”

“That’s him.” We both stared down at the man, hardly recognisable with half his face blown off. Such a poor, pathetic fucker.