Misery loves company. But I don't. That is why I have decided to end my misery. It may seem extreme but I just can't cope any longer. The only question was how to end it. There were so many possibilities but I had to be sure that the method I chose was lethal. Survival is not an option.
That's why I settled on the gun. I've been practising, working on my aim. I can't afford to get this wrong. As long as I get it right, then there will be no chance of survival and, finally, the misery will be over.
I find it hard to imagine what that will be like. The blackness envelopes me completely at the moment but I am hoping that the light will finally be able to shine through once the misery is over.
And it will be over soon as the day has arrived, the time has arrived. I've planned everything to the last detail. There can be no mistakes.
Right on time, the door opens, the gun trained exactly where his heart would be, if he had one. The target practice has paid off. He falls to the floor, gasping, his face contorted in pain, his eyes wide with shock. No longer will I put up with the misery of living with his beatings. Misery might love company but I don't love his.
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