As I felt the heat from the bullets rush past my head I knew I was in danger. One of them hit me in the shoulder. I spun around in my wheelchair as fast as I could and wheeled down the hall my office. The adrenaline seemed to block the pain out of my mind, all I could feel was the warmth of the steel bullet lodged in my shoulder. I could hear people, my coworkers, trying frantically to flee from the gunmen. Bam! Bam! Bam! The sound of the gunshots rang out in the air. I knew him discovering me here eventually was imminent. I don’t know why, but the pen and paper sitting at my desk suddenly became appealing.

My name is Sam Carl, I’m a lawyer from D.C. My life was once something special; I had everything going for me. Now, as everything flashes before my eyes I realize my life has become nothing but a web full of lies and deceits that I’ve woven myself into.

As I sit here, about to face my death, my mind can’t help but wander back to my beautiful wife, Sarah, and our two daughters. If only they knew how much I really care, how much I need them, how much I love them…but it’s too late now to ever tell them.

Maybe if I hadn’t left them back in D.C. things would’ve been different. It’s taken me years and years of fighting through troublesome pain to gain the respect as a lawyer I deserve. When you work as a lawyer in the unforgiving political scene that is D.C., in order to survive you only have one choice: adapt or die. Taking the job in Seattle, even though it meant leaving my family, was something I had to do to survive. My dreams of fast cars, expensive clothes, and beautiful women made me say yes.

As the adrenaline rush started to wear off, I became aware of the agonizing pain from the bullet. I could here the gunmen kicking through doors down the hall. I finally started conceptualizing the reality that my fate was held in this unknown gunman’s hands. All my life, everything I worked so hard for, is about to be ended and there‘s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I opened a bottle I had in my office, trying to ease the pain and panic setting in.

The drinking was another reason me and Sarah had problems. Coming home everyday from my tedious D.C. job wore me out. Destroying my liver with liquor was the best way to cope with the pain. I didn’t realize then what I was doing to Sarah and my kids. All the fighting, all the secrets, all the cover ups, all the pain I’ve caused them, everything I put them through. Sarah wanted me out, and my mind at the time told me to leave for Seattle. The promise of money, fame, and luxury served as a band-aide to my problems, never healing them but covering them up temporarily.

I’m defenseless stuck in my wheel chair behind this locked door. Sitting here, seeing my life flash before my eyes, waiting helpless for the gunman is all I can do. Feelings of impending doom overflow me as I write. The bottle helps me kill the pain, but it doesn’t even come close to the buzz I got from just spending a minute with Sarah. I hear the gunman trying to get though my door. It won’t be long now. If only I could tell Sarah she was right. At that moment it hit me that my reputation, money, cars, and the expensive things in my life meant absolutely nothing. I’m about to die. What does matter is the time I never got to spend with my loved ones. Even worse then knowing my life is about to end is the overwhelming feeling of regret. The regret for never truly getting to know my daughters, and not giving all I had to my wife. If only I could have one more chance. Suddenly, the gunman burst through the door.