[ WP ] A man takes his own life with a gun and wakes up unharmed in his bed .

He opened his eyes and looked at the time. It was fourteen minutes past eleven. The time meant nothing. It all meant nothing. Since he betrayed him the world had lost its flavor. 
 
 The first weeks were n't like this. They were n't dull and numbing but violent and painful. When Mark had left with nothing but a text and a mention of another man his heart had ripped itself from his chest. The bliss he had once known had replaced itself instantly with anguish and rage, as he tore every reminder of Mark from his life. 
 
 And now, with those reminders gone, so went everything else. He dragged his body out of bed and slipped on the jeans that were lying on the floor, the belt still laced through the loops from yesterday. He opened his drawer and pulled out the t-shirt sitting on top, but as he pulled out the shirt he heard a loud clank. His gun and badge. He smirked as he picked up the badge, a once iconic symbol of his accomplishments but now a sinister reminder of his failure to pass the detectives exam. He toyed with it in his hands, then let it drop to the floor. 
 
 He picked up the gun and held it in his hands. He retreated to the edge of his bed and looked down. Without a second thought he held the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. 
 
 He instantly lurched out of bed, his heart pounding, sweat forming at his brow. He took a deep breath. Then another. 
 
 `` Just a dream,'' he muttered to himself. 
 
 He looked at the time. It was fourteen minutes past eleven.
