The Lover’s Bullet
Written on November 28th, 2022 by Ethan Zhang
“Son, your mother and I have something for you.” My father stood in the doorway of my college apartment. He gestured for me to follow him out into the living room. My mom sat there with a generic black bag beside her. My father sat down and began to talk.
“We know you are in college still, but we think it's about time you find someone you love. Someone who takes your breath away every time you hear their voice.”
“Thanks, Dad, but why is this relevant?”
“Because this is likely one of the last things we will ever give you, our will aside.” My father had said those words so resolutely. It had shaken me to my core.
“And how exactly do you know that?” The fear and doubt were palpable.
“Son, your mother and I have lived long and fulfilled lives, it’s time we leave you alone. We will always be with you, we just won’t be with you physically.” I looked at my mother, stunned; she smiled weakly at me and nodded. She pulled out a small black velvet box. She handed me the box and I already knew what it was.
A silver ring sat in the box. The crimson rubies on it glistened in the mellow light of my living room. I closed my eyes and my parents said nothing more. They got up and said their goodbyes, their visit was over. They would fly back home later that night, the last time they would ever be on a plane again, I would soon come to realize.
My father’s words echoed in my head when I met Kira in my finance class. She sat right next to me. Her smooth brunette hair flowed to her shoulders. She glanced over at me and smiled, then went back to taking notes. She was attractive, to say the least. Class ended as I talked to her. We traded numbers and parted ways. Her hazel eyes had been captivating, and I found myself spending the rest of the day daydreaming about looking into her eyes.
I came home to a letter on my door. It held grim news about the grim fate of my parents. Their bodies had been found at home, they were executed in the bedroom. Whoever did it made sure to cover their tracks well. The letter claimed that it was unlikely that I would ever get closure. My mind flashed back to that night, they had warned me. I had nothing to do but wonder if it was all planned or if it was a horrific prank, but when I called them, it went to a chilling voicemail message.
“I am sorry, but we cannot be reached right now because we are dead. Call us back another time.” They said it in a monotone voice too, void of emotion. I sat, alone, scared, and worried. The doorbell nearly made me shit myself as I looked out the door.
Outside of my door, Kira stood there, in a white dress, looking beautiful as ever. I opened the door and she noticed how disheveled, shocked, and scared I was and immediately inquired.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
“My parents, they’re- they’re dead. Someone executed them last night, and they have no idea who the killer is, and they- they gave me one last thing. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know if it was planned.” By that point, I was hysterical, inconsolable, and uncontrollable. Kira reached out and rubbed my shoulder. It worked well enough as it calmed me down enough to relay what had happened. She told me she came over to formally introduce herself as she noticed she lived nearby. It was unnerving, but it was nice that she cared.
Kira entered my apartment, opened a cabinet, and poured me a drink. We sat down on the couch and we began to talk. We talked about our past. We talked about what we planned to do for the future, and all the while, I felt the renowned butterflies fluttering in my stomach as invisible forces tugged at my heartstrings. The sun began to set when she left my apartment.
Classes proceeded as normal, Kira came over often, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. We grew closer over the semester, spending more time with one another, and the butterflies never flew away, they only ever multiplied.
It was raining the day I asked Kira out. Thunder rang in the sky as the torrents of wind blew the rain into the bouquet of roses I had bought for her, the card was pressed against me, staying mostly dry as I sprinted across her lawn to get to her porch. She opened the door before I’d even got there.
“It's a storm out, what in the world are you doing out there?” Kira laughed heartily, the laugh I had come to love.
“Well, I came to give you these.” I smiled as I handed her the roses and the card. She looked confounded, then after a moment of realization, smiled weakly. She opened the card and began to read. I took off my rain-soaked jacket and hung it up. A tear began to well in Kira’s eye.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just- I never saw you this way, and I just need some time to process it.”
“I- uh- I’m sorry, Kira. I just- You just had me so entranced, I didn’t know what else to do or say, so I came over today to give you that.”
“Thank you, but I need some alone time. You can stay here as long as you want, the storm doesn’t look like it’ll pass anytime soon.” With those words, she walked into her room and shut the door. I heard the lock click and crumpled to the floor as I was sure she was doing on the other end. I cried for hours, sitting there on her kitchen floor. Eventually, I had enough.
I ran back out into the rain, leaving my jacket behind as I sprinted through the rain as the rain washed away my tears. My eyes were red by the time I got to the car. I opened the glove box and inside sat two things that were polar opposites of one another. The brilliant silver and crimson ring that my parents had given me for when I found the woman I wanted to marry—and a 9mm pistol.
Without hesitating, I grabbed one of the items from my glove box. I saw Kira run out in the tank-top and shorts she was wearing, the wind and rain pelting her skin. I could see she had been crying, and in her hand, she held my keys and my jacket. I pulled the trigger as Kira screamed.
The bullet went through my skull and into the car. Kira opened the passenger side door and stared into the glove box. She knew why I had left it open and she began to weep into my shoulder. She saw the deep crimson in the ring. She began to repeat two words over and over again: I’m sorry. I never heard her say those words as my world lit up and then fell to black- my own grim fate had befallen me.
