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j o n e r i k s e n

Maybe she even wanted to die in here. He held a gun to her head. Her lips had a bluish tinge and she shivered even though the evening was warm. She moaned deep in her throat like a hurt animal. He looked at her pale face as he pulled the trigger, leaving a bloodstain in the shape of black clouds as she crossed over into whatever there was.

Everything was blurred, ghostly. The two of them sat silent. He looked down at her. All the color was gone from her face. He put the barrel against her temple and squeezed the trigger. A flower of blood, small and delicate, stained the floor. She went limp in his arms.