That's the toughest thing I've read through in a while. 
:wall:


As my husband’s yelling continued, I begged, pleaded and cried for him to wake up. It was like I was a ghost… he didn’t even acknowledge my presence. It all happened so fast. He reached under our bed and grabbed his 300 Winchester. I froze in fear. He was waving the gun all around… even towards me. My husband would never hurt me but he wasn’t himself. Sitting down quickly, my husband put the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. I screamed for him not to do it… I cried out to let him know that this was all just a terrible dream, a nightmare. It was too late.
The sound of the gun made my ears ring. I can still hear the pieces of my husband’s head hitting the walls and floors. I will never forget that terrible distinct smell of gunpowder and blood. I screamed for help and remember running downstairs, unaware of the fact I was completely naked and covered in my husband’s blood.