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at him.
“ I’m sorry I can’t marry you.” She said as she handed him the ring. He looked down at the ring and then back up at her.
“ What?” He asked, disbelief filled his voice.
“ I just can’t.” She said grabbing her purse and leaving the apartment. That’s when he sat down and thought about it. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong but things had taken a strange turn. Things hadn’t been the way they should have. Things had gone wrong.

Now he sat alone in his ransacked apartment. The gun still in his hand. He’d been thinking for nearly an hour to see what he could do. The hour before was the realization that she was gone. Now he was thinking about what to do, should he kill himself and end it all or should he do nothing. The gun seemed like the likely choice. He could end his pain and end all that had caused him what had been done. But would it make him feel any better knowing that Danielle would blame herself.
“ She should.” He whispered to himself, his voice full of anger. He knew that somewhere deep in his heart he was angry at her for calling off the wedding a few days before they were to be wed. But then there was the part of him that loved and cared for her more than anything in the world. His world as full of conflicted feelings and he wasn’t sure what to do. He admitted that he loved her, but in someway he hated her for what she’s done.
“ I hate her.” He said as he slowly stood. There on the stand was the only thing he hadn’t broken, a picture of the two of them. Taken last fall during one of their vacations. He looked at her smile, the look of love in her deep brown eyes, the laughter that shown behind her eyes. He then looked again and thought it was as if she was laughing at him, with a deep growl he toss the picture across the room and watched the glass frame shatter against the far wall. The contents falling to the floor. He looked around and began picking up things and tossing them yet again. His anger had come to a boiling point and he was about to explode. Finally he fell to the floor and cried again. That was all he did lately was cry and scream. His anger was beyond anything he’d ever seen and he wanted to end the hurt that was being held deep in his heart. Moving to the table he sat down again. He picked up the gun once more and placed it against his forehead. Maybe pulling the trigger would be easier, his pain would stop. But instead he just sat there.
“ I’m a coward.” He said. “ That’s why she left me.” But even he wasn’t sure why she had gone. He really wanted to know what he’d done wrong that caused her to wait till the last minuet to call of their wedding. He’d worked so hard.

Working two jobs to pay for the wedding of her dreams. She had been planning the wedding since he’d proposed nearly six months before. But they had to wait a little longer. Their budget wasn’t fit to handle the large lavish wedding she had already starting planning. So he’d picked up a second job. Coming home sometimes late in the evening and sliding into bed with her only to leave a few hours later. He wondered if she really wanted such a large wedding. And their fighting would become more intense the more he asked her about it. He knew that their fighting was due to the wedding and due to him not being home as often as she’d like. But yet she liked the money from the second job, it was paying for the wedding of her dreams. But yet he felt that it wasn’t the wedding he wanted. He just wanted to marry her, he didn’t care about the lavish settings or even what was being served at the reception dinner. Things had seemed to get out of perspective from the life they had planned together. Somewhere their love had been lost in the shuffle of finding friends and family. Now he wondered if it wasn’t that family had been lost or even love but that they’d been lost in the shuffle and hurry of the wedding plans. He hated her now, she was the reason he was feeling the way he was. Things inside of him told him that he should love her, but other things told him that his pain and anger was her fault and killing himself would make her pay for what she’d done to him. Looking at the gun once again he wondered if he should do it or not, could he even do it knowing all those that he was leaving behind. But it would serve her right for what she’d done to him. All of this was her fault all of it was. And that’s what his head kept telling him as he pressed the gun to his head once again.

* A/N This story is an idea from a friend, he couldn't put into words what he wanted. Now I have. *