“Fucking jack offs!” I screamed.

I cranked my stereo volume up to full blast. I’m tired of being blamed for things I don’t do! I’m tired of losing jobs! I’m tired of abusive boyfriends! I’m just plain sick of life! Years ago, when I went through a real bad time, our parents were still alive and I decided to go away. Actually, I checked myself into a mental health clinic. I couldn’t cope with life. I couldn’t cope with my drug problem. I couldn’t cope with my bitchy sister. I just couldn’t cope!

I ripped my dress clothes off , threw them across the room and went digging through my dirty laundry for a pair of jeans and t-shirt to wear. A month’s worth of laundry, again...as usual...to do because of no money. There was nothing in the house to eat. Karen can’t work because of her stupid health problems, so she didn’t have any money. We have to do something. I have to get us money. If we don’t pay rent, we’re gonna get evicted and I am NOT going to go through THAT again!

I started crying hysterically. It’s not fair! Life’s just not fucking fair! I began kicking the wall, then punching it until my knuckles began to swell with pain. I flopped onto my bed and buried my head in my pillow. Maybe I could suffocate myself to death.

Yeah right, whatever! I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. I had to come up with some plan. I had to! Just had to! I closed my eyes and tried to block out everything. My music was so loud that if Karen was screaming at me to turn it down, I’d never hear her. Think...think...think...what to do?

My music suddenly stopped playing. I opened my eyes and sat up. Karen was standing by my dresser where my stereo was located.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Don’t bitch at her...she had nothing to do with this. It was bad enough that her poor life was messed up with doctors and such.

“Karen, we just can’t go on without money. I have to go and get some from somewhere. I won’t go to a bank, I could drive to some small town and hold up a convenience store. Those small town stores never have cameras. I’ll come up with a disguise, so I won’t be recognized, just in case.”

“You’re nuts! You’ll never get away with it!”

“Sure I will, people do it all the time and never get caught.”

“Oh really now? You’re an expert on this? I had no idea.”

“Fuck you, Karen. I’m trying to save us for at least a month! I’ll find a job somehow. We need money NOW!”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t want to be apart of anything like that. It’s...it’s just not right!”

I jumped up and went over to my closet to dig out my shoebox that held my gun and bullets. When Dad died, he had a collection of guns and so, I just kept a hand gun. You never know when you’ll need one, right?

“No! Kristen, I know what you’re up to! Just stop it! I’ll call up some friends and borrow some money.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so sure. We have sooooo many rich friends that are willing to hand out money. What the Hell ever!”

I found the shoebox and took the gun out. It had been a long time since I held it in my hands. Could I really go through with it? Could I really pull it off?

“I’m doing it and you can’t stop me. You’ll thank me later!” I got up, found a pair of sunglasses, grabbed a heavy jacket, a ball cap, and left. Karen didn’t come after me.

I went out to my car, got in and drove away, squealing my tires.


I sat in the parking lot of this small store that was 45 minutes away from our place. It was still open and there looked like there was only one clerk working. I don’t want to shoot anyone. I just need to get money. I slipped the sunglasses on, pulled my hair up underneath the ball cap and shoved the gun in my right coat pocket.

“Well, Kristen, it’s either now or never.”


I slowly pulled the car into our driveway. A few lights were on in the house, the ones Karen normally had on since she was deathly afraid of the dark. She’d more than likely still be up. She always stayed up late reading or writing. It was her favorite time to be creative. That’s when she wrote her best poetry, stories and songs.

I opened the car door and slid out. I was expecting to see the front door open as I walked up our little sidewalk, but it didn’t. I quietly went inside.

“Karen?” I called out.


Karen was sitting alone in the dark, a very unusual thing for her to do. She turned on one of the lamps sitting on the end table near the couch. I saw right away she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red. She asked me with her eyes if I had gone through with it. I took off my jacket and hung it over the dining room chair and walked into the living room.

“Did you?” Karen asked.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly.

“No...I didn’t.” I whispered in her ear.

She started crying.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you came to your senses.”

We stopped hugging and looked at each other. I felt so bad because I knew how bad Karen had taken this whole situation. It wasn’t her fault...her poor health did it to her...and every time something tragic would happen, she’d have an anxiety attack.

“No, I didn’t have one.” She said as she wiped the tears from her eyes. It didn’t surprise me that she said that. She could always read my mind.

“I love you, Karen.”

“I love you too, Kristen.”