Tears streamed down his face as he climbed into the empty bathtub and lit a cigarette.
Inhaling the nicotine as if it would make the events of the past thirty minutes disappear. As if it would bring her back to him, but it won’t. He gave up everything for her, and for what? To be dumped and kicked to the curb? To be rejected and told off? No, he was not going to allow her or anyone else to treat him that way.
He placed his wallet, phone, cigarettes and a handgun beside him and suck on the cancer-stick as his mother used to call it once more; blowing the smoke into the emptiness in front of him. He rubbed the tattoo he got a month ago on his forearm with his thumb and can’t help but think back to happier times.
She was with him that night. The night they decided to get matching tattoos. Stupid and in love. He should have known better. He should have known that this was too good to be true, that a girl like her would never go for a guy like him.
He grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, his dad a drunk, he came home and beat the shit out of his mother while him and his younger brother ran upstairs to hide under their beds. Ever night the same thing. One night, dad came home from the bar, both drunk and high. Mama couldn’t take it anymore and … bang, bang, bang. Three shots made him fall to his knees. A fourth sealed the deal.
Sheriff knew what was happening and let her off with a warning. How he doesn’t know, mama probably gave Sheriff an offer he just couldn’t refuse. Dad never hit her again.
He smiles, taking another gulp of smoke, letting out a cough.
He reached for his phone and opened the ‘notes’ app on it. His big fingers, struggling to type the words.
“Here lies William Matthew Smith – 1988 – 2016. R.I.P” He read out loud, placing the phone back on the ledge of the bath.
He pushed the burning cigarette against the tile, smothering the coal and picked up the handgun.
“See you soon daddy” he whispered.