Cold steel pressed against hot flesh.

That distinct smell of gun oil fills the air around his head.

Alone in the darkness he sits, tired, so very tired.

So many nights have passed, so many days.

Always the same, nothing ever changes.

It wasn't always like this, it couldn't have been.

But those days are gone, lost like so much more.

Best forgotten and stored away, deep inside.

Can not even remember when it all started.

How it started or even why.

He just knows that all that once was, has slipped away.

Is lost to the never ending ticking of time.

Breathing down his neck like a rabid beast.

A small click, a bright flash, and its over.

No more ticking of lost time, no more anything.

Just cold silence , and the lingering scent of gunpowder.