Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them.

I have to say it. I'm dying, three bullets in my torso, but I have to tell him. I say I'm sorry, but he looks like his world has shattered: maybe it has. I don't blame him when he puts a gun to my head: I knew he would, I'm worse than he is I deserve to die I couldn't live with myself but the gun's so cold and my blood is so hot running out of the wounds tears on my face so hot I'm crying too and they're here don't stop him it has to go like this.