Die you son of a bitch!
screamed Estelle at the top of her lungs.
Her old, withered hands were wrapped around the .45 Smith and Wesson, her index finger feeling the tension on the trigger, some how mustering the strength to push through the pressure, into the betrayal that she felt. At first it was hard she began to doubt her strength as she felt the force of the spring, desperately fighting her. The index finger pushed slowly, feeling and overpowering the tension, until a thunderous boom emanated from the barrel pushing Estelle's body back, but her artificial hip absorbed most of the kickback
I can't pretend that I don't know anymore,
she shouted once more, as loudly as she could. The Betrayal was too great. New emotions worked their way out of the bottom of her stomach into the throat, stopping in eyes that were full of tears.In the last few weeks her suspicions had been many, her denial so much more. She knew the truth now and it was too much.The first tear had already dried on her right cheek, being followed by many more, ruining her rouge.
How could you do this to me after all these years Harold?
Estelle's lips were quivering, most of her daily energy having already been expended to pull the trigger the first time.Wanting to end it, she breathed deeply and lifted the gun once more towardsHarold. Her back ached in the process, her hips strained again. Her body was hurting at the thought of lifting the gun, after having already dragged the luggage from the van into the doorway it was in need of rest.The first time was too emotional,
thought Estelle, this time he will pay for what he has done.
The gun was raised again. Estelle looked through her right eye. It felt unnatural but the left had severe glaucoma. Her anger, sense of betrayal had changed to a singular event: shooting Harold. This time, rather than just maiming her love, she aimed center mass and fired four more rounds into his body, ending a relationship of over thirty years. The sunlight from the window was intense, illuminating the outline of the single event Estelle had feared all too long. The tears stopped. The aging woman was no longer defenseless. She felt in control again.
She wanted to fire one more round into Harold but could not find the strength to do so.Her already over-worked muscles became overpowered by the weight of the gun; pulling her arms to the ground and letting gravity bring it to the waxed hardwood floor with a clunk.
The African grey parrot that had died while over a weekend excursion at the casino didn't seem to care much what Estelle thought of him anymore.