Blank, the world goes white, like after having watch the last reel of a picture show. The bullet entered the back of my brain, and forced its way all the way through.
I wake up. There are ceiling tiles with water stains directly above me. Where am I? I'm no longer at that woman's odd house, she looked directly at me at the end. Her eyes had never fixed on me before, and I have been trying to sell her gadgets for years.
She looked at me at the end, I was there she saw me, funny how I could always see her till that day.
There's a conversation in the background, sounds like a peanut teacher, damn, I hate clichÃÂ©s. Maybe if I turn my neck I'll see her. Oh god, my neck it won't move, my head is so heavy. Maybe I'm paralyzed.
She was abused, at least she must have been as a child, when she wanted me to leave, she gave me that look, the one abusers teach their young victims to pass on.
I hated working her, pretending the gadgets were useful, returning to her knowing, she'd never buy anything. My shoes were first hand and all she had was ten year old slippers, and I felt cheap. She could do that, I suppose all the great women can. Well, she might have been a great woman had that moron left her alone as a child.
At least I'm not cold, what that smell though? I know it, must be something from my childhood.
I wonder if her father gave her that scar, I once knew a girl who had a pot of coffee spill on her arm, it was a mistake, or at least that's what she said, years later I heard she was...