When the hammer began its short trip backwards, Jamie realized it was over. A torrent of memories overwhelmed his mind in a race against the impeding ballistic amnesia.
Adolescence surged through his neurons. He felt sorry for his parents who would have to bury their only son.
As the hammer began its relentless drive forward, Jamie basked in the glory of his wife and children. He was flooded with every emotion, recalling first kisses, steps, words and pictures followed by last hugs and bedtime stories. Memories of life crested a millisecond before the bullet splashed them across the alley wall.
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I can't stop reading this. This was my hell week.
No words will be able to convey the truth behind these words: the desperation, isolation, and regrets. For many it is just the thoughts of parents, wives and children that keep them from pulling that trigger or starting that car. The cost of depression is too high yet not treating it is much higher.