She didn't get it. She didn't understand. He had made the decision to kill himself. It wasn't about making the decision. It was about what was going to be better. It had to be better.
He didn't know if her laughter was mocking or stress-induced hysteria, and really he didn't care. He sat there stone faced, watching her fall down next to him.
And then, finally she calmed down and he was gearing up to tell her to get out, to leave him alone because he didn't have time for her mocking, when she looked at him and said something he didn't expect.
"That's what it meant when you said you were going to snap my neck. That's what it meant when everyone was gone. Terry, this is about you and it's not about making you feel bad. I just...don't want to care anymore. I don't want to be alone anymore, and that's all I'm going to be."
He was talking now, just talking and not really paying attention to her though he was looking into her face, "It's funny, isn't it. The world just seems to be against us. One second it's all making sense, it's all together and for some reason we're happy. We've worked it all out, and we think it's right and that nothings going to bring us down, and then, faster than it should even be possible, there's nothing but the bottom. So I chose the barrel of a gun and you are choosing the bottom of a bottle. What's the difference, really? Does it matter? We'll climb our way back up to happiness and then what happens? What takes us down again?"