The Bullet

The Bullet

The warm handle, the textured grip, the smooth trigger, and the textures of the Smith & Wesson he holds in his hand. He looks up to see his world crumbling in front of his very eyes. The true loves, the lies and beliefs gone up in smoke. Smoke is a funny term to describe the situation my friend was in. He holds the 9mm in his hand and waits till no ones in front of him. He looks down at the gun one last time, he watches himself lift the gun to his shoulder, and he takes a breath, and holds while he squeezes the trigger. The blood splatters away from the wound as he sees it gushing from the hole in his shoulder. The oxygen leaves his body quicker then an exhale. The scream in the distance is a loud shriek that would curdle anyone’s blood. The blood from his shoulder is warm, and thick as it coats his hand that’s trying to cover the hole. He starts to see dark, and the world around him fades away. Death he thinks is warm, and gentle. Slowly drifting to a new world. The females hand covers over his chest and his eyes close, he looses everything he knew. He didn’t recognize himself anymore, and as the bullet passed through his flesh, the fire washed away the old him, and a new person would be born.

He would claim to hear the voice of God in the ambulance. He would claim to have apologized for his mistakes, and God he claims forgave him and sent him back. He claims the voice was loud and thunderous and brought forth feelings of hope and terror at the same time. He gasped for air as the life returned to his body. The stabbing pain in his back was that of the ribs that had fractured by the bullets exit. He’d later find out that the severely deformed the 3rd rib, fractured the 2nd and damaged the 7th before it exited his shoulder blade. Along with the collar bone being chipped the bullet would leave shrapnel behind in the lung as it worked its way out. The bullet punctured the lung deflating it right away, which is why he lost consciousness so quickly. He would beg for death in the ambulance hoping to return to the warmth and peace he just felt. His request to die would go unheard as the valiant paramedics worked diligently to stop the bleeding. He would end up loosing 6/8 units of blood before the ER was able to stabilize his wounds.

The remainder of the night was a blur for him as visitors came in two at a time. He doesn’t remember much, just quick images, glimpses, vague memories somewhere between reality and imaginary. The pain he would feel during recover would have him begging for death. The morphine drip in his arm would get blocked for several hours and his pain levels would hit a 10 and stay there for hours. He’d beg for relief and the nurse kept telling him for over an hour he needed to breath, the problem was every breath he would take would be sharp stabs into his lungs, every rise and fall of his chest would beg for relief of unconsciousness. It was over an hour before the care team found the medication wasn’t working in the bloodstream.

The days after would leave him learning about himself. His actions would leave him questioning everything he knew about himself. He would spend the next several months combing over his bible, combing through scripture, learning about himself and Gods plan for him. He hopes to one day change the world and if not the world his only little corner of it.

Recently he would be reminded a few times over of his mistakes. The pain everyday would be a constant reminder of his mistakes. The truth that he survived and was forced to live with the images of his mistakes every single day, yet some people in his life would bring it up, remind him in hurtful ways regularly. James 5:16 “Confess [your] faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” The lack of faith from the people that used to care for him is the hardest part. The truth between good and evil, the truth between right and wrong, the truth between selfish and selfless is somewhere in between.

He’s asked me to pray for his life, his goal to reach out and stop this from happening to anyone else. He knows he can’t ever take it back, but he wants to at least right his wrongs. He created his own nightmares; his own demons when he pulled that trigger and he prays God will use him to prevent any tragedy from happening like this again.

“If you wanna make the world a better place,

Take a look at yourself and make a change,

Hooo” Michael Jackson/ Batman


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