Bullet.

"I realize today that I've been running straight towards a person who's been holding a gun at me hoping they wouldn't fire a bullet. I never even considered the thought that the person is the bullet too. I do today.", he said, facing himself in the mirror, with the clearest voice that he could muster out of his throats.

He didn't want to give too much of his vulnerability away but his body couldn't help it. He knew he was taking a stand like never before at that moment and the part inside of him that was claiming the independence for so long finally started celebrating as it had been waiting a tad too long for its own good. He wanted to do a lot of things, like punch the glass mirror and celebrate his new found freedom in such an extravagant manner that every time he remembers those people, he'd remember this very moment too and how he got here. He wanted to scream, scream so loud that his vocal chords get to their limits and then a little bit. He wanted to cry, cry his heart out until he no longer could, cry not because he felt hurt but because he found his cure, finally, in himself. His mind became empty. He felt ecstatic. He fell onto the bed right beside the mirror and just stared at the ceiling for as long as he could. His glistening eyes got themselves closed.