Out of the blue, into the black and back again

Gun to my head, I'm dared to breathe. It may be the last breath or the first of many. It's hard to tell, the only thing that's sure as I stand on the dusty floor of his family's barn is how close I am to becoming part of the soil that comes through the cracks in the concrete. I love him, loved him? He stands next to be, blood dripping from his stomach. I say dripping but the fountain of red is best described as spurting. A chaotic reminder of the conscience that will soon dissipate into a void space none of us can describe or come back from. As Neil Young once sung, he'll soon be out of the blue and into the black. I don't have time to wax poetic right now, I am about to die or commit the biggest betrayal I could ever fathom. One so brutal I'd have to run away from everyone I know, hidden away someplace, unable to speak of it, too ashamed to admit what I've done. I'll probably be so wracked with shame I'll kill myself anyways. I almost let him pull the trigger. His grip is loosening as his pulse dissipates. His mind is playing tricks on him and his speech is incoherent. I am watching the person I love most in the world die and I am too afraid to join him. We made a deal. The last one we'd ever make. We'd go out together. Consensual Murder Suicide. We'd reach a point where we'd both succumb to our worst depressive episodes and we'd have no energy or will to continue. No more music or aspirations, none of it would matter and we'd burn out together. A burst of violent light, a couple sharp sounds and it would all be done. No more loneliness or lost days spent wishing for night to come again. Eternal night. We picked a spot, set a date. He stole his father's gun and we drove to their childhood barn. We brought his old record player and our favourite records to go along with it. Some candles, our favourite food, a pack of cigarettes and a couple of grams of whatever we could find. A proper send off. We've arrived now and I really thought I'd be ready to go. Why am I so afraid? Everything's all set, it feels impossible to get out of it now. I really thought it would feel like closure, it would feel like the right time. We checked the time an hour ago. We had been sleeping on this dusty floor for the past 3 days. Our last vacation. I felt good, I felt safe. Maybe even happy. Happier than I've felt in the past 6 months, at the very least. I thought we should call it off, maybe we just need to spend more time together. Get away more often, concentrate on what makes us feel like staying. I remember their faces. Everyone I love, everyone I want to avoid hurting and everyone I know I'll be leaving behind. It's too much, for a second I cock the gun and almost pull the trigger on myself while he's sleeping. I can't keep thinking about it, I'll talk myself out of it and then I'll just be cycling through the motions until I end up here again, alone. This is the right decision, this is the end. He woke up, decided he was ready to go, said didn't want to discuss it anymore and shot himself in the stomach. He looked at me with anticipation, wondering when I'd do the same. I didn't. I just stood there staring at the finality of what he'd done. I felt numb and devastated all at the same time. Paralyzed with fear, I just stood still. He picked up the gun, offered to do it for me, on my say-so. He put the gun to my temple, turned off the safety and waited for me. I stood motionless, aimlessly waiting for a moment I felt ready. It never came, his grip got looser and I started to panic, knowing I wouldn't be able to do it alone. Now I'm standing here, next to him as he begins to nod off into oblivion. I don't think I can bear this loss, I've got to go, I told him I would and I don't want to leave him alone. But I can't do it. I'm frozen, knowing what I'm doing is irreversible. I stare down at my feet as they sway back and forth in panic, across the barn's dusty floor. I can't look up, I start counting the twigs, imagining where they all came from, how they got in here, if I had drug them in with me and if they'd be the last thing I see. I'm not panicking anymore, I feel paralyzed by my own resistance, waiting for a sign to come and pull the trigger on his behalf, utter my consent through it's mouth. It never comes, the minutes turn into hours, turn into days. I'm still standing there, frozen, staring at the ground as the earth begins to rot where I've been standing. My shock has immobilized me and made me immune to any natural desire to eat, sleep, drink or go to the bathroom. I haven't looked for him, I know I won't be able to bear what I see. So I just stand there, my feet become entrenched in what certain to one day be a crime scene. I count the mice and flies and small rodents as they pass by me through the day, some stop to smell at me, certain I must be dead or close to it. I just observe. I'm like a nun who's taken a vow of silence, I never thought I'd be this quiet. Then, as the leaves that were stuck to my head start to wither, I walk out into the light that awaits me in the dark. I look behind or below me and see the barn waiting for me to return, someday in the future. I didn't leave behind what I had promised of myself and I can hear it beckon to me. I will never truly be free. And then I open my eyes.

The smell of breakfast and a feeling of warmth. He's beside me, smiling. I check frantically for a scar, any sign of what occured. He tucks the hair behind my ear, gently reminding me I was sleeping, promising me, begging me to believe him. I'm skeptical. Did i die there with you? Is this what happens after? Or did none of it ever happen at all? I'm still unsure and unconvinced that I care, I'm here. Warm and safe. He's happy and I'm happy and everything's alright. My morning turns into a normal day, I go to work and come back to have dinner next to him, like I did every other night. Everything's alright but I can't shake the image of the barn as I stepped away from it, whispering to me, calling me, reminding me I would never get away from it. I wonder now if it really was a nightmare, one meant to remind me of all that awaits me if I ever leave this all behind. Cold, desolate, grey, lonely. I am now warm, loved and safe. And the grey no longer appeals to me.