‘I just want this to end and forget everything.’ Dorian thought to himself as he stood in front of the mirror. His eyes sunken, hair tangled, and his skin a pale remembrance of its former self.
He grabbed his gun, placed it in the back of his waist and left his smokey apartment. Waiting for the number twenty-four bus to arrive he was going through what was going to happen, what he hoped would happen.
Stepping from the bus onto the street corner of the worst neighborhood in the city he waited for the right person to walk by.
Dorian turned to see five men, clear gang members, and pulled his weapon and began to fire. The blanks echoed up the street as the men returned in kind hitting Dorian multiple times. He fell to the ground with the pain coursing through his body. ‘God, let this be the final time.’
The men took off down the sidewalk away from his riddled body. Before any of the residents could even get to the scene, Dorian stood up and started on his way back home.
‘There’s only one choice left,’ Dorian was sitting on his bed.
He took the knife and ran it across one wrist and then the other. Placing his left wrist in the toilet, he flushed the water, and the blood was pulled faster from his body. The room got dark, and he fell to the floor.
Opening his eyes, he rubbed his forehead and just sighed.
He caught a glimpse of the first shadow cross the doorway and then a second, third. Soon they were all around him, and the floor opened up.
Blinking a few times, he realized where he was. ‘This can’t be. Will this ever end.’
He was strapped securely to the crucifix-like table, and the lethal injection was about to be administered.
“Do you have any last words, Dorian Donaldson?”
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