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The Click

Tristan sighed with every tick of the large grandfather clock, gently taking a tranquil sip of burning water like liquid. Before the accident, Sue would come at exactly 8 p/m. from her sewing club and kiss his stubble-covered cheek. That was of course before the accident that had taken her away. One evening on her way home, a drunk had come barreling down the street in a stolen semi-truck and had struck her. There coroners had said her skull was shattered on impact, her brain matter splattered on the front grill of the truck had been evidence of that. Her corpse inside the coffin was so cold, it seemed to be drained of her blissful happiness she one had. Her once full crimson lips required a mass of stitches to try to put the face back together for the funeral. Tristan had been crying hysterically through out the funeral expecting her to sit up and remove the mask and say it was a cruel joke. But she never sat up. The bone chilling, looming music continued and his cheeks were stained with tears that day. The most hard-hitting news of that day was she had been coming home to let him know she was with child. The driver, his penalty; 2 years in prison and revocation of his license, what a morbidly cruel joke that was.

An exasperated breath left his mouth. " Dear god was I such a pathetic worthless husband to have my sue taken away from me in such violence. Come on you condescending jerk who watches over us ANSWER ME!" Tristan screamed ot the heavens.

With a sudden automatic motion, vodka and glass his the olive green curtains, they had chosen out last year. Tears swelled from his eyes, his heart ached with large waves of depressive memories. It wasn't the quality of her love that caused Tristan's heart to ache with remembrance of her, it was the quantity. She had loved him so much and he had loved her with every bit of his heart. His love for her had seemed to be natural as if he was supposed to love her.

He ran his hand through his hair, his other hand griping at his chest and heart. "I love you Sue, my god i love you so much it hurts to breathe air in." he muttered in a pained whisper.

He slowly got up; tears stained his cheeks as they continued to swell from his eyes in a constant river. A slow pace came form his legs as he walked to the other side of the room to go to his desk drawer. Images played through his head as he took each step. They seemed to play like a silent film only he could see. Sue skipped home merrily down the cold abandoned street with the happy news, her hips swaying with each skip in that special way he found sexy. Dim high beams of a car lit the street up, as she crossed a silent look of horror on her face. The black semi smashing into her body and shattering the skull on impact, was heavily detailed in slow motion. As the semi continued it left behind a limp cold body, headless and a pool of blood around it. The handle of the drawer was cool and welcoming, the squeak of the moving wheels as he opened it a wonderful orchestra.

The colt 45. Revolver inside the drawer was a silver gleaming treasure, its handle seemed to be made for him in his grip. The barrel touched the sweaty mess of auburn hair as he put the gun to his temple. His finger pulsated on the trigger as he slowly pulled down. The click of an empty barrel though was his only reckoning. He began to giggle, " THE GUN GOES CLICK!" He yelled between hysterical laughter.

Two doctors peered into the dim lit padded cell of one Tristan A. Mortis and noted his current behaviour.

" It seems he is acting out the scene the police foudn him doing."

" It would make sense with how many drugs he is on, hallucinations would be a minor thing to worry about."

" I am more frightened though by the actions he tooks before this though. Disemboweling the drunk driver that killed his wife and scattering his entrails in the gravel driveway of the mans premises."

" The human psyche is a thing of mystery that we must always try to fine the answer to though with people like this."

The doctors continued their staring at Tristan a look on their face of bewilderment. The straightjacket Tristan wore hide the movement his hands made in his hallucinations. Love, a thing which can dirve any mortal man insande with the right circumstances.