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Click.

Five more shots.

I felt the smooth barrel of the handgun against my forehead. The cold metal sent shivers down my spine.

I had found the gun in my father’s desk months ago. I hadn’t been looking for it at the time, but now I was grateful for it. I had pulled it out of the drawer, being careful with it. I removed the ammo save for one bullet and spun the chamber.

For the first few minutes I only stared at the gun. I studied the way the light hit the handle, bouncing off creating reflections of light on the wall. My hands shook as I brought it to my head and click. Nothing. Five shots left.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and felt a tear slip silently down my cheek. I was doing it. I was going to succeed this time. I would not chicken out. This time I would do it.

I moved the gun into my mouth and let a few more tears fall. The barrel rested against my tongue, a bitter taste entered my mouth and I sobbed. My hands trembled as I put pressure on the trigger.

Click.

Four shots left.

Four more chances for me. I needed the bullet that would surely end it all. No. Not end it, but save it. Save me. That’s really what it was doing. I would not think of this as my suicide. I mean what was I worth anyway? What was the point of me living?

I sat on Ryan’s bed, listening to him spout off on one thing or another. Brendon had done something I guess. I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t really been paying attention.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” I jumped as he shouted.

I smiled meekly. “Not really, sorry.”

Ryan shook his head and sat down next to me. I looked down at my feet. I was undeserving of such a wonderful friend. He really was too good for me. Of course everyone was too good for me. I mean I wasn’t even paying attention to my best friend when he was obviously in distress!

“I’m sorry Ry. My mind’s just in other places right now. Go on with what you were saying.” He hugged me and nodded his head, continuing on with his problem. I looked down at my arms and scratched at the raw cuts, hidden by my jacket.

More tears fell at the memory. I was unworthy of such a wonderful friend like Ryan. He was always so fantastic to me; I couldn’t even pay attention to what he had to say.

I clenched my jaw around the gun barrel, holding it firmly in place and pulled the trigger confidently.

Click.

Only three more shots.

Three more shots to freedom. Free of this depression. Free of this pain and hurt that was so evident. I closed my eyes.

I stood outside of Ryan’s house, waiting for him to come down. He and Brendon had just gotten into a huge fight so I wanted to be there to comfort him. I pushed the door open, knowing Ryan’s parents wouldn’t mind. I walked up to Ryan’s room and opened the door.

Ryan and Brendon were locked in a passionate embrace and my heart broke. Every time they were together I would close my eyes and ignore them. If I didn’t see it then I could fool myself into believing that maybe I could have a shot one day.

I stuttered out a quick apology and left.

I couldn’t breathe. I was choking on the memory. I removed the gun from my mouth and placed my head in my hands. The gun’s handle bit the side of my head and I cried. I couldn’t handle this; I wanted it to be over now.

I replaced the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger once more.

Click.

Two more. Just two more.

I should have put five bullets in instead of one. I would have been dead by now.

I stared down at the red cuts along my arm. Everything I had done to myself, everything I deserved.

I stared into the mirror, looking at my eyes, the color of sky on a summer’s day. I watched the tears streak my face with silver. I sniffled and looked down to my arm where rivulets of crimson flowed.

My veins throbbed, craving one more cut. I slid the blade along my arm again, sighing at the release of pain. I watched as dots of ruby-red welled around the cut. I smiled as I studied my handiwork.

One word, cut into my skin. The angular letters smiled back at me. ‘Worthless.’ It was true. I was.

I looked down at the scar. ‘Worthless.’ It was true then and it was true now.

I put the gun to my head once more and pulled.

Click.

One more. Last chance. No failing now.

There were no more chances for me. This was it. One life left and I was going to spend it. Game over.

Tears were falling fast and free now. I cocked the gun one last time and slowly applied the pressure.

“Hey Spence—” Ryan pushed my door open and stared at me. His eyes wandered to the gun in my hand, never leaving it. “Spencer, what are you doing.” It wasn’t a question.

I just stared at him, gun to my head, tears pouring from my eyes. I shook my head; this was not how I wanted to go. Ryan needed to leave. “Spencer, put the gun down. Please.” Ryan’s voice cracked at the word ‘gun.’

A sob escaped me. He took a step forward and I closed my eyes. I felt his hand on mine, pulling the gun away from my head. He took it from my hands and pulled me into a hug. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He said, trying to soothe me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my emotions out. I was terrified. Terrified of myself. But I was ecstatic too, just happy that someone saved me. Someone cared enough to save me! I let my fears and pain flow from me. I cried on Ryan’s shoulder, clutching him tight and never letting go.

He pulled from my embrace and wiped my tears away. “Tell me what’s wrong Spencer.”

I closed my eyes, not having the courage to face him. “I love you Ry.” More tears leaked from beneath my eyelids.

I felt the slightest pressure against my lips and my eyes shot open. “Never scare me like that again.” Ryan pressed his lips to mine once more and I felt wonderful, happy. I felt that maybe, maybe I was worth it. Maybe I do deserve to live.