Drew Myers was in a board meeting, just like every other one he'd been to in the passed five years of his life. His company just really took off - and his inventions started to get popular. He was a genius, and he didn't blame anyone for the worship they gave him. 

He had lost interest in what Bradley Cousins, his manager was talking about five minutes after he started running that motor mouth of his. And this meeting was now into it's second hour. He never did shut up. But that's alright, because that meant Drew got to zone out during these stupid meetings, never having to say a word- and get off scotch free. 

For a man having everything- fame, butt loads of cash, a mansion, and a beautiful wife...he sure was bored with it all. He just wanted to take his wife on a vacation and never come back. In fact, right after this blasted meeting was over, and they set him, the prisoner free- he'd call her up and tell her they're going on a little vacation. One that they may never return from. 

Tapping his foot eagerly on the carpet, he tried his very best to calm his nerves and be still. But he couldn't. His overactive imagination was always kicked into overdrive the moment he got bored. Plus, having nothing else to do but let his imagination run wild- he got a bit jittery. 

Something was making his thigh itchy all the sudden. Was something vibrating? 

Then the sound came. His ringtone. The old theme song for Mario Bros 3. The Super Nintendo one. He blushed, and fished in his pocket until he pulled out his iPhone. It was a number he didn't recognize, but he answered anyway, feeling all eyes in the room on him. 

"Myers." 

"Hello, Mr. Myers." 

Drew furrowed his brow. "Who is this?" 

"This is Lieutenant Peter Law. I'm with the police." 

"What's this about?" Drew felt panic grab onto his heart.

"Sir..." he breathed hard. "There's no easy way to say this." 

"Spit it out!" Drew yelled into the phone, standing up from his chair. The stares from the rest of the group were the very least of his concerns now. 

Panic began to collect thoughts in his mind the few seconds it took for the policeman to respond. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears fathoming all the possibilities? But only one seemed to make sense. He fought the notion the very moment it surfaced into his mind, but it's the only thing that made any logical sense at all. 

Kelly. 

Lieutenant Law cleared his throat. "It's your wife, Kelly Myers." 

"I know my wife's name! What is going on?!" 

"She's dead, sir." 

Drew sucked in a breath. After a few moments, his lungs began to burn. He realized he hadn't exhaled. A tremor lit through his bones, as he stared blankly at the table. 

His wife was dead? No. There was something wrong. A giant mistake had just been made. He would go home, and they would be laughing about it. 

"Sir? We found her dead. A neighbor said they heard a gun shot, and they came over. The door was locked, but one drape was drawn, and they could see in. They called us as soon as they saw it. You have my utmost condolences." 

It was all true, then. 

Drew's vision became blurry, and he shook with fear. The cellphone slipped from his clammy hands, and it hit the floor. The battery popped out upon the landing. He didn't even pretend to notice or care. 

He stumbled from behind the table, and headed straight for the door. 

"Where are you going?" Bradley asked, grabbing at his arm. 

He slapped his arm away, and yelled, "Leave me alone!" 

"Andrew! What's going on?!" 

"Shut up!" Drew screamed.

He ran stumbling every few steps down the long hallway, pushing anyone who was in his way- out of it. He began to silently sob along the way back to his Lamborghini, without feeling emotion, though. It's like his heart felt numb, but his mind knew he should be drowning in plight just about now. 

Drew ran into the parking lot, and grabbed the handle of his car. He bent over are retched right there, thinking of the brutality of her murder. His body was going insane. 

He drove home speeding the entire way, and then seeing the caution tape around his house, he knew- once and for all that Kelly was dead. His sweet Kelly. Gone. Dead. 

x x x x x x x x x 

Drew sat in the front row, wearing a suit and a tie. Acting just fine, when really, reality was eating him- tearing him apart from the inside out. 

He wouldn't look at the casket. He couldn't. His bottom lip quivered, thinking about the person inside of that...that...thing. 

Kelly, his wife. She was dead, he was alive. Alive but slowly dying. He is dying. Slowly. Painfully. Without Kelly. He couldn't go on. That just wouldn't be right. Maybe he should just kill himself. Get over the pain, and be with Kelly again. Because without her, he was nothing. 

He looked at his hands, his shoes, the art word, the windows, the preacher's bald spot, that woman's ridiculously over sized hat- anything. Anything but her coffin. Her couldn't. He just could not. 

The thing that ate him alive the most was it was all his fault. He knew he had enemies. Heck, he even knew who were his enemies. But he just never expected that they'd be stupid enough to come after him. Or after Kelly, more importantly. This was all his fault, and that's why right after the service he'd commit suicide. 

But how? 

He wanted to be heavily drugged, he knew this much. 

So, he goes home, get's completely wasted, then jumps off his floor- eleven stories high. He'd be willing to do it, too. Probably think he'd be able to fly depending on how high and drunk he could get. Sounded like a plan to him. 

x x x x x x x x x x

Drew stood outside, rain pouring down turning all the dirt into mud, watching them lower his wife into a grave. He didn't feel like crying. He didn't feel like screaming with rage. He didn't feel anything, actually. Numb. The only thing he felt like doing was dying. And he was so glad that he'd do exactly that. 

His black hair stuck to his forehead because of the rain, and his eyes were fixed on the casket. This was the most horrifying moment of his life. One he never wanted to live to see. 

That was it. He couldn't wait any longer. The desire to have it finished gnawed so furiously at his gut, that he turned and ran. 

He ran all the way to his building. Up the stairs, into the elevator, and then through his door. He pealed off his shirt, thew it to the side, and ran for the cupboard. Yanking open the highest one, the one above the fridge, he saw his supply of alcohol. 

Drew mixed everything he owned into a tall glass, and downed it. Then, he took out a bottle of Advil, and swallowed three at a time with more alcohol. What did it matter? He was about to die anyway! 

He heard thunder booming outside. 

But he couldn't wait for the alcohol and the drugs to kick in. He needed to die. He needed to die now. 

Drew stumbled towards his balcony, and was met by the cool wind on his face. It felt like heaven. He needed this bliss before he died. 

Thunder clapped around him, and lightning bolts lashed out from the sky. This was the perfect setting for a suicide, Drew thought. 

He clambered up onto the railing, and held his arms spread wide. He felt the adrenaline and the weight of what he was about to do course through his veins. And he loved it. This feeling...this feeling of danger is what people like Drew lived for. 

It's like a spotlight came on him, where he was balancing, on the rail of his balcony. He shielded his eyes, and looked up,  to see four conjoining lightning bolts swirl like a tornado over his head. Directly over his head. 

Drew lost his balance, and began to fall. 

His world faded black before he even knew he had hit the ground. 

Light met his eyes. How wonderful! He was in heaven! 

He opened his eyes, to see two people standing over him on a bed. He breathed heavily. "What's going on?!" 

The bigger one crossed his arms, and offered a warm smile. "It's okay. Don't panic." 

"Don't panic?! Don't- wha?!?!" 

"Shhh," the other one cooed. "you'll be okay." 

"Nothing is okay!" Drew screamed back. 

"Son, look at your left forearm for us, please." 

Drew looked at the large one, and he nodded in agreement. 

Slowing turning his bare arm over, he saw what looked like a lightning bolt tatto- that went the whole way down his arm. Like some kind of weird mark. 

His eyes darted up to the two men, who had their arms out, revealing the exact same mark. 

"Congratulations," the smaller one began. "You've been chosen."

"Chosen for what? Where- where am I anyway?!" 

They two exchanged a knowing glance, and then the bigger one stepped up and said passed a crooked grin on his face, "The future." 

Alright! Short story number two!! I'm sorry I haven't updated my other books in a while, but they've been kidna stressing me out lately feeling pressured to pump out updates and stuff, so I'm relaxing for a little bit and writing what is making me happy for the moment. So yeah, I hope you enjoy these!! And thanks for the reads!!!