"David is there a story behind your revolver and would you mind telling me about it please?"David took a few sips from his cup of coffee than he began...to speak, carefully making sure to choose each and every word carefully."My sister Chloe gave it to me when I made Sergeant back in 2006 she is a hospital nurse back in our hometown of Farmhouse Indiana. She is a great lady you would like her very much sometime I will introduce you to her." When he finished tell her the story he resumed eating. Driving up the A10 the next morning, through familiar towns and villages, I cried as I thought of what my life had become. I had everything and nothing at all, the poor little rich girl to the perfect T. All I had left to cling to was, to put it bluntly, the questionable potential of compassion from high-class S&M prostitute. A sophisticated and un-tart-like whore, whom I paid for sex, paid to punish me for being alive. Who as far as could tell thought next to nothing of me, and treated me like. I was now standing in the driveway in just my bra, panties, pantyhose and heels. I ran to the door but they already locked it. They told me to wash all the windows on their cars with the window cleaner and towels that had placed on the back step. It was still not quite nighttime and I was afraid someone might see me. I cleaned the windows as quickly as possible and bolted back to the door. I was told that I could not come in yet. They were getting a surprise together for me. About ten minutes. The phone drops to the floor as I hang up on Jason and slowly stagger to the bed stand, opening drawers until I find what I was looking for: my .375 magnum revolver. I aim at the door and hesitate with my finger on the trigger of the revolver. My finger rests on the trigger, rubbing up and down the metal, a cold embrace of a cold act. I fire three times at the door where I know its chest should be, puncturing the lungs and maybe the heart. I sigh wearily, then drop the gun to the floor. I sit.