Ten. I held the gun to my chest, and took in a shuddering breath.

Nine. I remembered by family, my loving family, and regretted that I couldn't say goodbye.

Eight. What would death be like? Would I go to Heaven?

Seven. Maybe I would see my grandma in Heaven. Maybe she would understand that I had to do this.

Six. I thought of my friends. Would they miss me? Would they remember me and regret what they had done to me?

Five. I glanced at the photos of those whom I loved, and a tear trickled down my cheek.

Four. It was too late to go back now. I had to do this. Maybe, if I didn't go to Heaven, I would be reincarnated and be a happy person.

Three. My hand shook as I held the gun. I tightened my grip, but it did not stop the shaking.

Two. Would they forgive me? My parents, my friends, my family? Would they forgive me for what I was about to do?

One. I was about to go on a journey, I told myself. A... Long journey, yes, but still a journey. I readied myself to pull the trigger.

Zero. BOOM!

There are Ten thousand ways to break my heart and you managed each and everyone

I believed each of the Nine hundred lies you spoke to me

I dismissed the Eight million calls you ignored or text you never responded to

I forgave you the Seven times you stood me up on our dates

I denied my Sixth sense that you were no good for me

I waited patiently making excuses for why you weren't home until Five in the morning

I rationalized your anger the Four times you punched holes in the drywall as you screamed at the top of your lungs about how I didn't trust you

I pretended that the Three other girls were just acquaintances and meant nothing to you

Until I saw you cheating with my own Two eyes

Wondering why I couldn't be the only One

Until I realized there was Zero love

I had 10 men kidnap me in my sleep out of my home in San Francisco. 9 of them tied me up and the other drove. They all wore all white uniforms with gas masks. They had 8 rooms to put me in, but I could hear the agonizing screaming of women in the other 7 of them. Then there were 6 types of knives they laid out in front of me once they threw me down. The floor was hard brick, the whole room was cold, empty.. with 5 inch bars on top of the pebble, granite door.. there was no light. 4 of these men came in everyday to give me shots and evaluate me, writing down everything they could on a clip board, murmuring about what drugs to use. They would only give me 3 pieces of bread throughout the day and 2 glasses of water. There was only 1 prisoner in that hole, me, and I had 0 chances of living.

10...

Her eyes closed I fear and pain.

9...

She groaned and shifted in her seat.

8...

Her hands fumbled with the rope knots.

7...

Her eyes opened as she got her hands loose.

6...

She untied the rope around her feet.

5...

She grabbed the pistol on the table, left by the man by accident.

4...

The doorknob turned.

3...

She took the safety off.

2...

The door swung open.

1...

The trigger was pulled and she fell to the ground.

All was too late to save her.

0...

"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!