My hands trembled as I pressed the cold metal against my own temple.

I was ready to go, but I needed another minute to deal with the finality of it all.

I wanted death, and I'd made damn sure the gun wouldn't jam on me. All I needed to do was to pull the trigger.

You don't want to do that, I heard a voice say. I jumped from my chair and swung the gun around the room and panic.

As always, the motel room was empty, save the ancient television and moist bed.

There was no one there.

At first, I wondered if the sound had come from outside.

Maybe they hadn't been talking to me at all. Once the initial shock had worn off, I sat back down.

Don't do it, Gary, the same voice said.

Still, the room was empty.

Who, who's there?

I stuttered.

I stood back up and scanned the room.

I basically spun around in circles as I tried to

comprehend where the voice had come from. Then, as I prepared to finally end my own

existence, I saw someone standing in the corner. He was a sickly pale, elderly man with a thin frame.

He was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and didn't seem the least bit phased when I pointed my gun at him.

In fact, he just smirked.

Get the fuck out of my room, I demanded with a trembling voice.

The man just gave me a peculiar look.

You're afraid of me?

He half asked, half stated.

...