Bullet In The Head

“Why do I have to endure seeing him again? It only makes the memories come back harder. It only brings the pain back even more.”

I lowered my head, staring at the ground and losing myself in the flow of my thoughts, without really paying any attention to the world around me. My tears fell, splattering silently onto the corridor floor.

“I can’t even keep a promise… I can’t even keep the new ones I make. Sorry, Atsuko… sorry for crying like this. I can’t… I can’t contain them… I can’t restrain them from falling….” I sniffed, trying to hold back the anger and frustration escaping me in the worst possible way.

I looked alternatively at the rifle in my hand and the filth covering my body, observing my pitiful, miserable state – too miserable. Nothing was right with me. I was degrading myself little by little.

“No… it’s not just anger… This suffering, all these horrors, whether old or new, stain my soul... I couldn't do anything about it... I was incompetent, incapable of saving what I hold most dear... I do everything wrong. It's not just anger – it's disgust with who I am... I know it... and yet I can't stop crying.”

My sobs were inaudible, but my trembling body must have betrayed me. I didn't know if anyone was watching me at that moment, but they could have seen everything.

I couldn’t look ahead of me. I couldn’t move. Only my hand did, tightening and loosening its grip on the weapon in rhythm with my silent tears.

“Get a grip, Ryota. It's not like we have all the time in the world. Or would you prefer that I call this thing myself this time?” The doll uttered.

I raised my eyes without lifting my head, observing it from the corner of my eye. It circled Leo, stopping every two or three steps as if examining him meticulously, for some strange reason unknown to me.

“We’re going out. Then both of you will take some rest to be at your top form, and then we’ll be able to go find the ones missing and destroy the one behind all of this. Do you understand, Ryota?” It asked, its tone superior and confident, as if it were the one deciding everything.

The doll continued its examination, now behind Leo, where I couldn’t see it. Leo observed it attentively, not understanding what was happening but visibly intrigued.

“Yes…” I replied. I wasn’t really listening, nor was I sorting through everything being said. I was far more preoccupied with my own thoughts.

“Good. Now, help Leo to stand up.” It ordered.

That pulled me slightly back to reality. My eyes unfocused, then slowly refocused on what was before me, even though my head remained lowered.

I gritted my teeth. My eyes had stopped crying, but my thoughts were still completely tangled.

The doll emerged from behind Leo’s body, its unmoving face staring straight at me.

Leo looked at both of us, confused, but his face gradually relaxed from the fear etched into it moments before. He held his head and slowly regained his calm and composure, sensing that nothing threatening was happening to him.

He sighed and stood up on his own, though with difficulty. I watched him closely, my gaze never leaving him.

“I don’t want to touch this disgusting guy… this pig.” I murmured under my breath.

“So, Leo, is it possible that you remember or feel in your soul where the exit might be?” The doll asked, lifting its head toward him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s the first time I’ve come here.” He answered innocently.

“As I expected…” It turned toward me. “Ryota, let’s go. We have to hurry and find an exit. And don't grumble in your corner – he'll only be a temporary ally. We’ll find a way for him to help us. Now follow me, both of you.”

“Help us? Him!?” Hearing that triggered something in my mind, and my grip tightened further on the rifle.

I lifted my head completely, eyes wide, teeth clenched, jaw locked.

The doll began walking slowly and steadily, the clatter of porcelain echoing at regular intervals. It waved at Leo to follow, which he did, turning his back to me. He didn’t know what else to do and barely understood what the thing before him wanted – so he followed. He was confused, but he obeyed.

I watched them walk away.

I didn’t move an inch. My legs felt rooted to the floor, paralyzed by anger.

My arms wouldn’t move – only my grip on the weapon tightened further and further until I reached my physical limit.

I stared at his back, unable tear my eyes away, my gaze burning from staring too intently.

I couldn’t hold it in much longer.

“Leo!” I screamed, anger piercing my throat, my voice sharper and more brutal than a rifle bullet.

He froze instantly and turned slowly toward me, his face contorted by fear at the violence of my voice.

I breathed deeply, allowing my face to relax and return to a normal state.

I stared straight into his fear-filled eyes.

“Why Atsuko?” I asked, my voice calm but heavy. My face was closed, yet the question itself carried everything I was feeling at that moment, burning me from within.

At those words, his expression suddenly shifted out of nowhere. There was no sign it was coming. It was as if the fear had never existed in him, as if all the pity he had been trying to inflict had simply vanished.

His trembling lips twisted into a terrible, malevolent smile stretching from ear to ear, teeth showing, eyes wrinkling as they fixed on me with a petty expression. A confidence and an evilness emerged in him at my words, at the mere mention of Atsuko’s name.

To enforce his air of superiority, he raised both arms sideways to shoulder height, palms turned toward the ceiling. He laughed at me – a small, mocking, irrational laugh, born from whatever twisted thought crossed his mind.

“Atsuko? She was simply an easy and incredible target. What more could you want? It's true – your happiness, both of you, disgusted me too. So if I could get rid of it that way at the same time, it was all to my advantage.” He laughed even harder, uncontrollably, proud of his answer.

My hands tried to tighten even more around the weapon. I tried to grip harder, but it only made them tremble – trembling from the searing rage flowing straight through my veins, a rage that had cohabited with me for a long time now.

I watched him laugh, never stopping.

I took a deep breath. My hands stopped trembling.

“That’s enough for me…” I said with a long sigh of despair, lowering my head to look at my feet.

That was enough. I couldn’t go on like this forever.

In an instant, I raised both arms.

I held the rifle firmly with both hands, adjusted my body to stabilize my stance, my finger resting on the trigger.

I was calm. Not shaking.

He was laughing, not noticing me. Lost in his madness.

I aimed.

The heart.

I shot.

The bullet whistled through the air and struck its target exactly where I wanted.

Leo stopped laughing and staggered back slightly. He placed his hand over the spot where he had been pierced, where the impact had torn a hole through him.

He coughed blood. It ran down his lips and chin, dripping onto the floor. His skin grew pale. He stared at his hand, now covered in his own blood pouring from the wound.

I didn’t move from where I stood. My hand was still on the trigger, the rifle at eye level, my eyes fixed on Leo through the sight.

Smoke rose slowly from the barrel, the stench filling my nostrils.

Leo didn’t fall. He clutched his wound tightly.

I aimed once again.

And I shot again, without the slightest hesitation – this time, straight to the head. The bullet struck the center of his forehead. Blood gushed out the moment it pierced the skin, pouring forth in an unstoppable flow.

Eyes wide, face completely white, arms falling lifelessly to his sides, blood and saliva mixing as they spilled from his mouth, Leo fell backward and crashed to the ground.

The blood that had burst from his forehead now flowed calmly down his brow, joining on the floor the blood from the wound in his heart and the blood spilling from his mouth. He lay there on the cold floor, immersed in a bath of his own blood, its color even more intense than the neon light bathing the corridor.

He was really dead this time. He was finally dead.

I dropped the rifle to the ground. My face didn’t falter. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t sad. I didn’t feel guilt. I didn’t feel anger.

“I feel… relieved.” I whispered, then sighed as a soft smile appeared on my face.

I wiped the sweat and tears from my face with my sleeve and held my hands up before my eyes, clenching and unclenching them. I was calm.

“I don’t regret it, Leo.”