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Game Over

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She’s in his arms when it finally happens, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re driving down a wide, straight stretch of highway, her head on his shoulder, nothing but a few bushes and the road for miles and miles in either direction. They think they’re alone. They think they’re safe. And why shouldn’t they be? They haven’t done a robbery in a while, and they’re only heading home to see their folks. There’s no place safer than their parents’ houses. They’ve hidden there before.

The windows are up. Clyde had wanted them down, but she didn’t want the wind to mess up her hair before they got to her mama’s. She can’t help but hope that if her mama sees how happy she is, how put together and perfect she looks thanks to Clyde and his lifestyle, that she might give him a second chance. If she actually got to know him, she knows her mama would love him as much as Bonnie does herself. So the windows stay sealed, and her hair remains in near-perfect curls only slightly deflated from the heat. And in a way, it’s more dramatic like that. Like a scene you’d see in a movie. And if it’s her big moment, her chance to go out with a bang, she’s glad that bang is one that will be remembered.

For as much as she’s expected this moment, she almost doesn’t register it’s happening until it’s done. The sounds of glass shattering and the jagged chips that graze her skin seem distant, disconnected. Like this is happening to someone else and not her, Bonnie Parker, the ravishing redhead waitress from Rowena who dresses like a movie star and runs wild through the West with her true love.

But it is happening to her. And it’s over almost as soon as it begins.

She knows it’s the end when Clyde slumps, his hands slack before the wheel. There will be no U-turns to safety this time, no accelerating into the sunset amid the spray of bullets. It’s game over. There’s no warning and no hesitation first, just the steady stream of red that erupts from Clyde’s body upon the impact. His pale, breathless, lifeless body. His dead body.

Clyde is dead. He’ll never hold her again, never kiss her again, never smile at her as they speed away from an adventure. Any pain that comes after is nothing compared to the searing agony of this realization. In the end, his promise meant nothing. She has just enough time to utter a broken scream before her eyes flutter closed, the sound of gunfire still constant in the background.

And that’s it. The end. But she doesn’t really mind. Her end came before her skin was broken, seconds before when Clyde breathed his last. When the car rolls to a stop and the cops approach, there’s a faint smile frozen in death on her face. Wherever they’re headed – and Lord knows it ain’t heaven – at least they’ll be together.

They went down together. And it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.