[Georgia 03] Fallen

tasted blood on the tip of his tongue. He imagined a wall between them. A thick concrete wall.
    “There’s a reason you wait for me. There’s a reason you don’t go on dates and you don’t go to bars or pay for pussy like every other man in the world.”
    The wall got higher, stronger.
    “You like what we have. You know you can’t be with somebody else. Not really be with them. You can’t walk out on that ledge. You can’t open yourself up to someone like that, because you know at the end of the day they will always leave you. And that’s what your precious Sara is going to do, baby. She’s an adult. She’s been married before. She had a real life with somebody else. Someone who was worthy of being loved and knew how to love her back. And she’s gonna see real fast that you’re not capable of that. And then she’s gonna drop you on your ass and be gone.”
    The taste of blood got stronger in his mouth.
    “You’re just so fucking desperate for somebody to give you a little attention. You’ve always been that way. Clingy. Pathetic. Needy.”
    He couldn’t stand her being this close to him. He walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water. “You don’t know anything about me.”
    “Have you told her what happened to you? She’s a doctor. She knows what a cigarette burn looks like. She knows what happens when somebody holds two live wires to your skin.” Will drank the water in one gulp. “Look at me.” He didn’t look up, but she kept talking anyway. “You’re a project for her. She feels sorry for you. Poor little orphan Will. You’re Helen Keller and she’s whoever the fuck that bitch is who taught her how to read.” She grabbed his chin and made him face her. Will still looked away. “She just wants to cure you. And when she gets tired of trying to fix you, when she realizes that there’s no magic pill that’ll take away the stupid, she’s going to drop you back into the trash where she found you.”
    Something broke inside of him. His resolve. His strength. His flimsy walls. “And then what?” he yelled. “I’ll come crawling back to you?”
    “You always do.”
    “I’d rather be alone. I’d rather rot alone in a hole than be stuck with you.”
    She turned her back to him. Will put the glass in the sink, used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. Angie didn’t cry much, at least not for real. Every kid Will grew up with had a different survival tactic. Boys used their fists. Girls turned bulimic. Some, like Angie, used sex, and when sex didn’t work, they used tears, and then when tears didn’t work, they found something else to cut into your heart.
    When Angie turned around, she had Will’s gun in her mouth.
    “No—”
    She pulled the trigger. He closed his eyes, held up his hands to block his face from the pieces of brain and skull.
    But nothing happened.
    Slowly, Will dropped his arms, opened his eyes.
    The gun was still in her mouth. Dry fire. The echo of the hammer clicking was like a needle piercing his eardrum. He saw the magazine on the table. The bullet he kept in the chamber was beside it.
    Will’s voice trembled. “Don’t you ever—”
    “Does she know about your father, Will? Have you told her what happened?”
    His whole body was shaking. “Don’t ever do that again.”
    She dropped the gun back on the table. Her hands cupped his face. “You love me, Will. You know you love me. You felt it when I pulled that trigger. You know you can’t live without me.”
    Tears came into his eyes.
    “We’re not whole people unless we’re together.” She stroked his cheek, his eyebrow. “Don’t you know that? Don’t you remember what you did for me, baby? You were willing to give up your life for me. You’d never do that for her. You’d never cut yourself for anybody but me.”
    He pulled away from her grasp. The gun was still on the table. The magazine felt cold in his hand. He shoved it home. He pulled back the slide to chamber a round. He held out the gun to her, muzzle pointing to his chest. “Go ahead and shoot me.” She didn’t move. He tried to take her hand. “Shoot me.”
    “Stop.” She held up her hands. “Stop it.”
    “Shoot me,” he repeated. “Either shoot me or let me go.”
    She took the gun and dismantled it, throwing the pieces onto the counter. When her hands were free, she slapped him hard across the face. Then again. Then her fists started to fly. Will grabbed her arms. She twisted around, turning her back to