It's been nearly eleven years since he had called that night; clearly I recall it being a cold mid december night with thick snowfall of which covered the ground
and the sky as beautiful as his own dead heart, scattered with broken stars that had spilled out. I can almost imagine what it must have felt like to be in his place.
A wet face, shattered heart and the cold steel pressed tightly in a fist. All hope down the drain.
He must have been uncontrollably sobbing with a shaky body and an uneasy heart.
What irked him to do such a thing as taking his own life?
For I only bring pain and despair; it was all my fault to begin with.
Being born had torn apart their relationship, of him and her being happily newlywed. All of her future plans had died and burned to a thick ash of meaningless and worthlessness.
Hearing his voice one last time as the rain pounded down, hitting window pane with a steady pattern, it all felt like a dream.
Those last words he spoke wasn't himself speaking, he didn't sound right.
I could clearly hear the stars dying in his voice which is now just a mere memory that lives buried deep within the back of my damaged mind.
But don't you remember it; what he told you, before pulling the trigger?