Last words

11/15, I found myself in front of a person, ready to pull the trigger. Ending his life, making his loved ones and friends sad and at the same time freeing myself from the thought of having to deal with him again. But also becoming a prisoner of remorse for having killed a person. I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this. Yet fate moves my muscles.

It's early in the morning, around 5:00, I finished my studies but I don't have a job yet. So what am I doing awake at this hour? Oh right, I had to go to the bathroom. This dump of a house is the only house I have, given to me by my adoptive father. What the hell, my cell phone rings while I'm in the bathroom, that's bad luck.
"Hello, who's bothering me at this hour?"
"Niigata Hospital, we want to let you know that your grandfather is in serious condition."
Damn that old man is about to die, probably if I don't go, no one will go, to hear that old man's last words. I really don't feel like leaving the house, damn, damn, damn. Okay, I'll go visit him. That old man doesn't have a penny either, what can I gain by visiting him, never mind, I have nothing to do anyway.
I leave home with the best clothes I own: neon green sneakers, worn out from too much use by those who had them before, gray pants from a tuxedo, with a hole on the left knee and stained with something that can't be cleaned with just soap and water, a white T-shirt, almost new, found abandoned on a bench, a black jacket from another tuxedo, with the ends of the sleeves ruined.
I feel almost elegant. But now how do I get there? It's 4 km away, damn it.
How tired, I can't stand walking anymore, there's not even a sidewalk.
"Hey, nurse, do you know where my old man is?"
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Kurosawa Issei by any chance?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Your grandfather is in room number 51 on the second floor at the end of the corridor, turn right and you'll find him."
"Okay, goodbye."

Damn why is that room so far away. Here I am, finally I'm in front of the door, who knows if that old man will have something to say to me.
"Hey old man, I came to see you."
"..."
"Old man, answer, are you still alive or not?"
"Dear nephew... today I had a nice dream, you know?"
"I don't care about your dreams."
"..."
"Hey, do you have anything set aside for me?"
I don't think he has anything but you never know, asking doesn't hurt.
"You know... I have just a little something just for you."
The old man sat up, got out of bed and took a gun out of a drawer.
"Hey old man, you can't keep this thing here."
"Don't worry..."
"You don't want to end it like this or kill me, do you?"
It wouldn't make sense to kill yourself now or point it at me, it makes no sense.
“Dear grandson, this was once mine and I used it often, you know? Hehehe.”
“Hey old man, what are you talking about, what did you do with that?!”
“Hehehe don’t worry about anything bad, on the contrary, I used it for good.”
What did my grandfather do to use a gun for good, I don’t think he was in the army, so what good could he do with a gun?
“Keep it and use it carefully, dear grandson.”
“I don’t trust him, but I’ll take it anyway as a memento of you.”
Why would he give me a gun? And what’s more, use it carefully. I don’t think I should use a gun at all. What kind of things did my grandfather do when he was young?!
“Hey old man, how do you feel now?”
“I feel like my time is running out soon.”
“Hey…”
“Don’t worry, it’s normal, I’m over 70.”
“Okay old man. But I have a question.”
“Tell me, dear.”
“Did you like your life?”
“I’d say it’s not bad.”
“If that’s the case… well, goodbye old man.”

What a shitty conversation. Damn. Once I got out of the hospital the only thing I could do was go home, so I did.
Now with the $20 I stole from the infirmary while she was distracted, I can buy myself something to eat. I had no idea what fate had in store for me as I walked to the grocery store near my house.
There I found two guys leaning on motorcycles, tall and big with bushy beards but no typical biker tattoos. Inside the store I found some great discounted bread and some discounted ham. At the register I paid and out of the corner of my eye I saw the guys from before kicking something, or someone.
I rushed out screaming
“What are you guys doing?!”
“Can’t you see? We’re robbing this guy.”
With that answer I had no doubt, I had to do something. I put my bag of groceries on the ground and dove at them. I kicked the first guy in the knee to make him lower and give him a nice hook right in the face. The second guy who was watching moved and tried to punch me, but I stopped him with my left arm and then turned and compensated for the parry with an attack, making his nose bleed. The first guy, however, pulled out a knife and cut me on the right leg. The two men recomposed themselves and backed away, ready for a second round. The second guy, however, started laughing and pulled a gun out of his pants. I was scared, so I took both my grandfather's gun and my courage.

11/15, I was in front of a person, ready to pull the trigger. Ending his life, making his loved ones and friends sad and at the same time freeing myself from the thought of having to deal with him again. But also becoming a prisoner of remorse for having killed a person. I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this. Yet fate moved my muscles. And I shot.
That guy fell to the ground on his back like a domino, his accomplice dropped the knife and threw himself on the body of his crying friend.
“Brother!!! Nooo!!!”
I had killed a person. In front of his own brother. I remained frozen, motionless watching a person crying over the lifeless body of his brother, as if it were a scene from a movie. Before dying for good he said something bizarre:
“Bro… It would have been better to prostitute yourself than to end up like this.”
An almost surreal statement, although quite true.