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First to Bite the Bullet

A Short Story

By Kaelah WilliamsPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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Credit to Owner of imagine. However, script is written by Kaelah Williams 

I hate arranged marriages.

Just the idea sickened me.

As a teen, all I wanted was to marry for love, have a beautiful husband most girls would love to be with. I would’ve never expected to see myself sitting in a chair in the house of a who didn’t want to look at his horrid face, as his raspy voice called to me. I felt irritation starting to bottle inside me but I swallowed my anger, sitting back and looked up to see my "hubby," Fredrick Patterson. His face was smeared with an ugly grin, his teeth coloured from his over consumption of tea. His eyes bulged out of his skull as if they were to fall out. He looked impatient, like usual.

“My Dear, I said are you alright?” his voice asked for the hundredth time, his voice strained and tense, the hair that was left on his head was a stronger grey color and spiked up making me want to puke at the sight.

“Yes Dear, I’m fine,” I replied emphasizing the "dear" part. I stared into his eyes that were decorated with fine lines that became deeper when he smiled. I looked away from his perverted stare and proceeded to shift my gaze to the room.

I took in the beauty that was surrounding me.

With money comes great luxury; yet great unhappiness. I lay my hands on my morning gown as the small sequins lightly stabbing my soft pale skin. Although my life here involved stress and depression, I never grew tired of the immense glam the mansion held.

“Miss, a telegram,” one of the many maids here caught my attention as I began swirling my soup with a small steel spoon. She did a small curtsy, passing it to me and quickly leaving to attend to her daily duties.

“Who’s it from?” I heard his voice croak in a disgusting manner. I forced the wax seal to open, which surprisingly was easier than usual. I lifted the little note out and read it silently to myself despite my husband’s pleas to know what it contained. “I said who’s it from? Answer me!” his voice taunted me as I forced the paper to unfold.

As my eyes glazed over the words, my face went a few shades whiter. I read it over and over to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

“Uh- “

“Well who is it from?” his voice increased my heart rate.

“My mother she’s terribly sick but she writes not to worry about her health,” I lied keeping my gaze away from him. “I should write her a reply straight away.”

I quickly rush to my feet feeling anxiety creep its way up my spine holding on to my head with its crawls forcing stress on my frail brain. I knew one thing for sure and that was to get out this room.

“Excuse me,” I jumped to my feet and without waiting for his reply I raced up the stairs pulling my dress back to help me freely run without collision.

Once I reached my room, I slammed it shut with my back, as I slowly slid down to the tapestry carpet. A pain stung my chest as the words once again played in my head. I could hear her words over my shoulder as I opened the crumpled page. It read:

Anastasia Dear,

It’s been a week with no interesting news in the morning paper. You know just a simple sentence can make gossip spread like bacteria. You’ve got one week before I expose you, you ruthless child. The gun is under your pillow as always. It’s just one shot and then the money is ours so we can start a new life. I know you know where the safe is darling. Get the money and get out.

- Mother

My heart began to pound in my throat as images of the safe played like a movie blurring my vision for a few seconds. I looked at the clock that chimed when the hand hit 9:30 am. Its tone failing to soothe my loneliness, as it usually did at this hour. I shakily stood on my feet, fixing my hair and my gown so it sat properly on my hips.

I rushed to the side of my bed gently lifted that silk covers to find my hand shotgun, the silencer still attached from when I got it from Mother. It laid peacefully underneath my pillows, the scent of lavender passed my senses but its calming effect didn’t work and I only became tenser.

I pulled it from hiding with shaky hands, my heart pounded as it sat in my grasp. My record was already broken, this won’t make it that bad I thought, as I took a few deep breathes in hopes to calm my nerves.

I firmly clasped the gun firmly in my hands quickly hiding it behind my back when there is a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” I tried to sound strong but I stuttered. My heart felt like it was going to fall out any minute when Fredrick’s voice sounded at the door.

“Love? Please come to the library, I want to discuss something with you, I expect you to be down in five ok?”

“Yes,” my voice squeaked listening to his footsteps as they padded away down the hall. I let out a breath I never knew I was holding in. I pushed the gun into my dress so that the fabric bounced around my skin covering both my hand and the gun.

It was now or never.

Quietly I sneaked down the flight of stairs towards the library. I took as much time as I could in hopes that when I got there, I wouldn’t hesitate when the deed had to be done. As I reached the door, I was forced out of my thoughts. I wanted to cry in every way to seek forgiveness.

The tears stung my eyes my lip quivered as I stepped into the library, shutting the doors behind me. His head jumped up at the sound of the door gently collide together as it closed. I crept towards him, I was fully aware that he knew of my presence but I couldn’t seem to pull myself together.

Images of my father in a similar position his head buried in the paper as he was oblivious to my next move. I shook my head violently to get the images out when I was Fredrick’s balding head. I lifted my hand slowly it shook violently as I attempted to steady it with the other only to almost drop the gun.

I brought it up again my hands shaking violently trying to aim at his head, I pulled the hammer down as a click rung through the room. My breathing becoming unsteady, the noise of each breathe filled my ears. I counted down in my head closing my eyes.

BANG!

There was a dead silence.

“It’s a shame you know,” he spoke, “To end it like this.”

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