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"Suicide is a man's way of telling God, 'You can't fire me. I quit." --Bill Maher
Henry Johnson pressed the barrel of his revolver to his temple.
It would be so easy.
He had reason to kill himself...the murder of his wife and son, being fired from his job at the bank...he was even a little curious about what would happen if he died. He looked at the ratty hotel room he was staying in. The dull yellow paint was peeling off the walls, the window was clouded by grime, the light flickered every now and then. When unemployed, clinically depressed bankers whose families had just been brutally murdered killed themselves while on the road, they did it in hotel rooms like this.
Just pull the trigger. Just a little moment of pain and then it's all over. You might even be reunited with them on the other side.
He thought, And what if I'm not reunited with them? What if I go straight to Hell?
It's worth the risk, don't you think? Besides, Hell can't be worse than this.
Henry lowered the gun, Yes, yes it can.
You think so? Have you been there? Of course, you do know that you could have saved them, your family. But you didn't. You were just too damned scared for your own life.
Get out of my head! Henry thought to this voice.
You know I can't do that, Henry.
"Get the Hell out of my freaking head!" Henry yelled aloud.
No. I'm part of you.
There was a sound like a thunderclap in the night. Henry Johnson had raised the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.