Ten Reasons

"Ten," I said.

He looked confused. "What?"

"That's the number of times you lied to me," I spat, venom in my words. "And how many times I believed you."

"Babe, come on, we can-"

"Nine," I interrupted.

This time he waited for me to say, "That's how much time you've got left to live. If a lowlife like you even believes in God, I suggest you pray to Him now."

His eyes grew wide. "Let's be rational. You don't have to . . ." He stopped when I turned to glare at him.

"Eight," I continued. "That one is how many times my mother warned me about you. I guess mother does always know best."

It seemed he'd given up, since he remained silent. He obviously thought I was beyond reason. And if I was honest, I probably was.

"Seven. That's all the times I found you drunk, even when I told you to stay sober."

He didn't like that one. "You know I have a problem-"

"You're right," I agreed. "You do have a problem. And she happens to be counting down the last minutes of your miserable life."

"Six," I scoffed. "I hate six. How many times I let you have me." My lip curled in disgust. "And that's why I hate six."

He tried to say something, but I silenced him with another glare. "Don't waste your words."

"Five," I counted. "That's how many times I came home and you weren't there. You wouldn't pick up your cell, and you didn't come home until the next day."

This time, he was determined to get a word in. "I explained to you that it was for work reasons. You didn't have a problem with it then."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. That leads us to number four; how many months it took me to realize how stupid I was for staying."

"And that one leads us to number three. You see, that's the number of girls I caught you with."

"There's a-"

"A perfectly good explanation? I think not," I scoffed.

"Two. The two words you just couldn't say and mean them. I'm sorry."

He paled considerably. "Please, don't do anything you're going to regret."

I grinned. "But I'm not going to regret this."

"One," I said, pulling out a gun and aiming it at his head. "That's the number of bullets it will take to get rid of you forever."

"Zero. How many minutes you've got left to live."

BANG!