Don't Talk to Strangers

XI

 Oh how the tables have turned.

I opened the door to my apartment reluctantly and made Dan go in first. I was going to keep an eye on him. "You're going to sleep on the couch," I told him, "and you will not move, or go anywhere, unless I say so. Got it?"

Dan didn't meet my eyes, only nodded and sat down on the couch. Was this the same man from before? I shook my head. I continued to study him, and he stared intently at the ground. He seemed at war with himself—which I could imagine. I noticed his fists clench, and that only made me remember the kissing incident. I turned away, trying to control my temper.

I made my way down the hallway and into the bathroom. I closed the door and turned to mirror. I looked haggard and tough, my hair a mess and my eyes wild. I sighed and leaned against the mirror, clenching my fists. "What am I doing?" I breathed quietly. "I've got to do something with him... with this... Great, now I'm talking to myself." I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. "I'm going to have to find him a stable resolution... Then I'll call him in, and I can explain. They'll—!"

I jumped, cut off by a loud noise outside the door. I pressed a hand to my heart, trying to slow it down, and carefully opened the door.

Dan was at the end of the hall, standing with his back to me. "Dan..." I said quietly. He didn't turn around. Then he raised his foot and I heard a loud noise, like a choked sob, and he kicked the wall hard.

"Dan!" I cried, running over. "What are you doing? Stop it!" He continued kicking at the wall, then started hitting it with his fists. "Daniel!"

He finally turned to me, his cheeks shiny with tears. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

I stood speechless as he ran past me, down the hall and into the livingroom. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He just kept repeating it, over and over. He hunched over the couch, digging around his coat.

I wrenched myself from the spot and ran to him. "Dan—What are you looking for?"

"An end to this insanity!" he screamed. His face changed, a mixture of pain and relief, as his hand found what he'd been looking for. He pulled it out and looked at me slowly. My heart stopped as I saw what was in his hand.

He was holding a gun.

This is getting suuuper tense haha. Don't worry it's not gonna be that bad. Sorry if I hit sensitive topics. Suicide and depression are kinda relevant... Thank you for reading! Don't forget to vote!!