Samantha Jackson

It just sits there on the table.

Waiting, tempting, inviting,

Whispering sweet nothings.

I know it's wrong but,

I want it,

I need it.

I touch my lips.

Could I ever do it?

I grab it,

Guiding it to my open mouth.

The cold metal glides against my lips.

My tongue retracts at the touch of the barrel.

I'm scared and anxious and nervous,

But I feel...

Free.

I pull the trigger.