The Taste Of a Gun Pt 1

It's colder than the room. No matter how warm it is inside it still tastes cold.

Remember in 5th grade, when you got hit in the face for the first time? Your mouth filled with blood and the taste of the punch reminded you of a magnet. The scent of iron would fill your nose and allowing yourself to taste it made your heart race. It was probably adrenalin in all honesty, but it felt like the elixir of the gods. For a moment you were Achilles, and kicking a volleyball in play was your Troy. It was well within the rules so long as you could physically do it, Juan. So say the commandments of 5th grade, and you know it! I still lost that fight but it's a hill I'm willing to die on.

In any case, I'm losing the point. A gun tastes like that. Like cold iron welling up in your mouth. It fills your nose and overwhelms your taste buds. Surprisingly, it doesn't remind me of the way gunpowder smells at all. However, that's most likely because of the condition of the gun. Having not fired it in months and only buying it within the last year, I suppose it's freshness preserves the flavor. The action is what confounds me. The moment you actually squeeze the trigger. I imagine that changes the flavor entirely.

I do not know why I struggle with the action. I know it's what I want. Everyday for a little over a year now I think it. It overtakes my mind and I miss us every moment. But I'm supposed to just 'Move on'. What a joke. I was supposed to taste the action last night. Bring in the new year with a 'bang'. Either I'm a coward or this life still begs more from me and the latter is the least likely option. As far as I'm concerned I'm all out of positivity to give and the world is bursting at the seems with negativity so contributing would be another failure.

It's top heavy. Rock Island Armory 1911 9mm. Sturdy. 9mm being expensive also means it's the more common round. Assuming the world ends before I do and I need it for uses involving an apocalypse, scavenging would be profitable for my secondary at least. Stalling does nothing. I should pull the trigger. It's lite. I've shot it before, maybe less than a pound on the pull? Not sure but it is a nice weapon. Accurate. Something worthy of my misery.

Things are not well. Every day I think of them. They both swim through my thoughts in a way that clouds my sight. My chest is always so heavy. I hate this. Breathing is a chore, everything is a chore. But we must endure, right? We're not supposed to just lay down and die but that's all I want to do. Every day it gets heavier. My heart breaks every moment without my girls. I will die soon I can feel it. I just hope I don't fail worse than I did on New Year's Eve. If I actually pull the trigger and miss I'll be paralyzed and disfigured. They'll repair my body and leave my mind to rot inside.

This hate has probably been in me the whole time. I just fought it. I fought it for them. Claire made me feel like I could rule the world while she was at my side and Zavier loves her like a mother. Like all the things against us didn't matter and everything in the past was small in scope compared to our future. Then Lorelai came and she was so perfect. We were perfect and I was complete. I just had no idea how to show it. Deep down I felt that showing love was a weakness, that the things I enjoy are an embarrassment but I never felt like that around her. I could be me. Unapologetically me and she looked at me with those bright blue eyes I loved so much. The veins of hazel that encircled the pupil. My god I could get lost in those eyes for days. They had so much soul.

I'd do anything to go back and try again. I'd do everything right. I'd find work in the first week. A place in the first month. We'd be happy and our children would be together. I'd be the good kind of man. She could have that goat she always wanted and I could grow tomatoes with the kids. Our little happy family. Instead I'm here. Swimming in rage and hate for everything I used to love. What is wrong with me? Anything has to be better than this existence. We humans are just miserable fucking creatures and we twist and warp everything we touch until it fits in our tiny little boxes to be stuffed onto our social feeds.

So there I sat. The scent of iron wafting into my nasal passages as I jammed the barrel past my teeth. Attempting to angle it upward for maximum effect I carefully touched the trigger. I would utter one last quiet 'Goodbye', close my eyes and squeeze.

"Hello"

Instead of a bang or a pop the silence had been broken by a voice. Soft and eerily cheery, given the situation. Looking back, I did not appreciate the irony.

"You're going to make a terrible mess."

"So?" I said

"Die for something more." It replied.

"More?" I turned to see a well dressed creature looming over me. The chair I was in creaked awkwardly, betraying the disinterest in my heart.

"I come with a preposition offered by my most esteemed employer. Ividel Black. He requests your Ethereal Soul in exchange for a..." It paused, ruffling through It's dapper coat and pulling free a small shard of rock. Peering at it with what I could only assume to be eyes It cleared it's throat and read. "'Re-Do'"

"So this is hell?" Had to be. Where else could you be tortured with the notion of righting your wrongs in exchange for your soul. "It looks like my room. Beer cans and all."

"It is your room. You have a problem." It paused to roil a bit, probably disgust "I assure you Mr. Streete, this is not hell."

Still skeptical, I had to probe "Why would this guy want my soul? I'm not even sure I have one anymore."

"Yes your soul does seem a bit dim. It's tired and should pep right up after some recovery time. Dr. Black is a miracle worker when it comes to a heavy heart's assault to the soul and your heart is particularly heavy James. In fact it is so heavy that your soul was screaming within you."

"Screaming?" I cringe. Something about the idea of anything screaming inside me just didn't sit right.

"Yes. When a powerful soul is subjected to an assault that would destroy it, it begins to resonate across the void. Dr. Black could explain more. Perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me?"

"What do I have to lose?"