("This is a part from the middle of the story; it doesn't end here!")

He followed me with his car, and I crashed into the guardrail, the impact causing my car to collide. Crawling out of the wreckage, tears streamed down my face as I faced his gaze, unable to bear the weight of his disappointment. The rain intensified, heightening the emotional turmoil, soaking my hair, clothes, and even my socks. Covered in mud with a head injury, I was a mess.

He angrily swung open his car door, slamming it shut again with a pistol in hand, then followed me. Grabbing me by the collar, he lifted me up, forcing me to stand. 

"Get up and look at me like you used to!" he shouted.

Looking up, I saw his wet face before me, strands of hair clinging to his skin, raindrops falling to the ground. His gaze was icy, capable of freezing anyone in place. Biting my lip in despair, I wondered, where was his gaze filled with love and concern? Where was it?

The cold metal of the pistol pressed against my forehead, his conflicted eyes revealing hurt, despair, betrayal, and anger. He wrestled with his decisions. Tears welled up, and I squeezed my eyes shut—not out of fear of the gun, but of the person I had become in his eyes. 

"I'm sorry," I sobbed.

He gritted his teeth, pushing the gun harder against my forehead, demanding, "Sorry?"

 I looked up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks, my hands forming fists as I stared at the ground in shame. The headlights of his car illuminated our silhouettes, casting shadows on the ground. We were in a secluded spot outside the city.

Shaking me by the shoulders, he asked, his voice wounded, "Do you even realize what you've done?"

 Trembling, I reached out to his chest, wanting to pull him close, to feel his heartbeat against my ears. He pushed my hands away, and I cried even more. 

"You deserve to die right here, right now," he spat, his breath ragged.

In this moment it were like he teared up my heart out. 

I said nothing, just stared at the ground, raindrops mingling with my blood as they fell. 

He took the gun away from my forehead, and I looked up at him, shocked. 

He seemed lifeless as he simply looked at me, took a few steps back, and then spoke, his voice cold and serious. "If I ever see you again in my life, Rose, I'll really kill you."

Reaching out for him as he drove away, the rain and my tears blurring my vision, I screamed, "Dante, please!" and collapsed to my knees.

My desperate cry echoed through the deserted area. 

I slowly reached for my weapon at my hip. Yes, I had one too, but I didn't want to fight back. By what right would I?

 Pressing the pistol against my head, my finger hovered over the trigger. If he didn't end it, then I should, because I couldn't live without him. 

Suddenly, police officers arrived with their headlights, shouting, "Is anyone here?!"

 I looked on lifelessly as the officers noticed me, one of them yelling to the others, "We have an injured person here! Call an ambulance." 

Quickly, I tossed my gun aside. A young officer, with concern in his blue eyes, run towards me and looked at me.

 "Ma'am, hold on. An ambulance is on its way," he said.

 I simply nodded before collapsing to the ground.

 Faintly, I heard the officer's calls, "Ma'am, wake up!"

The cold ground were right now my best friend.

You're probably wondering how it all happened, aren't you? 

Yes, how did it all happen again?