The End of Trigger

This is the end to a long project started in college about a guy who kills his wife and writes his memoirs from behind bars. He goes crazy. It's dark and very unlike my usual writings. If you have a problem with dark literature, please don't read this. If you have a problem with the fact that I wrote it, please get over it.

She whispers again in my ear. Whispers in that cold air sound like a gale through my hollow bones. "Kill me." She says it repeatedly, over and over until I am saying it, too. "Kill me. Kill me. Kill me." I hold my breath and wait, counting to 5 in my head. "Kill me." She just won't be quiet, not for a moment, not at all. I release the breath and call for the guard, palming the home-made shiv against my person. I'm sorry, I think to him before he even gets to me. I'm sorry because you are my escape route.

"Kill me." He comes to the bars, trusting me, knowing my reputation as a "good soldier." Kill me. I mouth the words and his eyes go wide as I grab his hand, driving the shiv into his forearm, then pulling it out fiercely. He screams. Kill me. The guards come, but not before I give it to Frank 3 more times in the stomach for good measure. As insurance. Kill me. The reinforcements show up and grant my wish. They kill me. BANG.