Short Story

When the shot is fired, you don’t feel anything, or hear anything. All you know is your life is near its end. You body crumbles and you lay there as the blood pools and the light fades from your sight.
This is how my life ended, well more like my try at ending it.

I woke up in the hospital room with many eyes looking down at me. My mom had a death grip on one hand and my girlfriend was holding the other one. My dad stood across the room looking at me with anger and relief. Doctors and nurses scrambled in and out of the room like ants, and a selection of doctors stood near the door looking at me. Looking at their notes, then whispering to each other and then writing on their notes.
“I can’t believe what happened. I prayed it would work this time. The gun was perfectly placed. I can’t believe my life got more fucked up,” I thought to myself as I managed to make a stressed smile.
“How are you feeling?” my mom asked me.
I mumbled out “My chest sort of hurts when I breathe.”
“I know baby,” replied my mom, as she brushes my hair back, “Why were you playing with the gun any way?” she asked as my dad’s look became worse.
Now I am thinking, “What do I say to her? I want to end my life. My life is so screwed up and there is nothing she can do to help. The problem is caused when she tries to help. When she and Dad argue it makes my head spin, my blood boil. Some days I have thought about taking them both out, taking the gun I took to myself and pointing it at them….No, I could never tell them what I feel. My mom’s heart would break. My dad would dismiss my thought and then tell me I don’t have enough balls to point the gun at him. No…he would say to point the gun at any one. Well did I prove him wrong? I pulled the trigger on the imperfect son, the son who was going no where in life. Well did I prove him wrong?”
“I was just messing around and it just went off,” I simply said to my mom.
My dad’s glare softened, not a whole lot but enough for better comfort. I looked him in the eye and gave him a small smile hinting at “I AM SORRY!”
I know later that I am going to be beaten to the inch of my life and he won’t let me die, making me unhappy and it seems like, them too. I glanced at my girlfriend as fresh tears rolled down her face. The glisten in her pretty blue eyes made me look away. “I can’t believe she came here. I told her that my life was ending. I can’t watch her cry like this,” I thought, “I most-likely broke her heart as well.”
I laid there, hoping for a drug induced sleep, just to get away from it all. All the tears and sadness surround me and make my brain want to explode. “I need silence and a stress-free environment, but with my luck, I can’t expect it to happen. Oh well, damn it all.” I thought.
When I finally drifted back to sleep, I remembered the day. I stood on the back porch of our two story house and pulled the gun out of its case. I put it on the wooden picnic table and went in the house. I double checked every room, no one was home. I took our dog, Woody, and locked him in my room. I then ran back to the porch and picked up the gun. I slowly walked to the side of the porch where you couldn’t see me as well. I silently said “Dear God, sorry for ending my life this way but it had to be done.” I lifted the gun and placed it right over my heart and pulled the trigger.
I woke up and sat right up, sweating. It must have been the middle of the night. All the lights where out and my family was gone. I looked around but couldn’t get myself to get up and explore the building. I laid there in the silence for hours. Nurses came and went until I finally asked for the drugs. I couldn’t sleep and that was the only way. When the nurse came in and gave me the drugs, they put me in a peaceful sleep.
I was stuck in the hospital for weeks. People came and went and I saw more of my family than ever before.
At home I hardly ever see my parents. Dad was always working, being a lawyer and all. Case after case he works. If some one killed some one or some one stole some thing, he would stand up and have them plead not guilty. He is as much of a liar as me. My mom on the other hand is a third grade teacher. She basically lives in the home office. She plans projects, class work, readings, and grades papers. My time is spent in my room. My music blaring so everyone can hear it and my computer was on 24/7. My parents don’t really have control over me and I have a problem with authority. I never do my homework and I pay my little brother to do my chores. I go days without sleeping and I don’t care if I don’t eat. Mom never makes dinner. I normally eat a bowl of cereal for dinner and this started at a young age. When my routines became habit, I never gave it a second thought.
School on the other hand is a cosmic black hole of drama. People are constantly causing problems. The rumor mill never has a break and I was a hot topic when I tried to kill myself the first two times. I wasn’t really known before or in-between these times. I haven’t been caught in the rumor mill since my last try at ending my life.


The first try, oh what a happy memory. My mom stopped me this time. I heard her walk up the stairs and head toward her office. I took a deep breath and was about to put the rope around my neck as I heard her change directions. “Damn!” I thought as I heard her say “Trey. I am coming in. I need to ask you something.”
I quickly swung the rope back into the closet and closed the door. I jumped into my computer chair and acted like I was doing homework of some sort. “Today is not my day,” I think. Still to this day I wonder why she ever came into my room to ask “Do you need any laundry cleaned?”
She doesn’t do my laundry and she never comes in my room. I guess she just delayed the up and coming. I couldn’t do it later; I lost all of my courage to do it.


The second time was an even better memory. Stabbing myself in the leg and catching the femoral artery just right would allow me to bleed out and die in ten seconds. Ah….the joys of anatomy class. As I was looking at the knife selection located conveniently in my kitchen. My loving dog, Woody, came in and I sat down a petted him for one last time. When Woody left, I got up and choose my weapon of choice. Just as I was putting the knife on the counter to prepare myself, Dad walked in. “Shit. I have to wait now,” I thought as I pulled out a cutting board from the rack.
“What are you cutting up son?” he asked.
“Strawberries,” I replied, praying that we had some. We did and I thanked God for it. I started to cut them as my dad started small talk. We sat down when I was done and ate the strawberries as he continued to talk to me. I thought “Why is he doing this? We don’t ever get along. Is he pulling a prank on me?” I guess we I will never know now. By the time we finished “talking” I decided to wait till later and then attempt it.
Later, when no one was around, I stabbed myself in the leg. I missed the artery. “Thank you, good for nothing anatomy class,” I thought later on. I did bleed, I bled a lot. My dad found me unconscious on the floor of the kitchen. He called 9-1-1 and I woke up a few days later staring at the hospital ceiling. “Aren’t I the luckiest person alive,” I thought.


Luck? This is defiantly not me. All I know is that I can’t make life better for my family. I am always in the hospital. The nurses all know me by name and I should be talking to a physiologist about my problems. My problems range from depression to addiction.
When I wake up on my first day back home, I try and imagine that I wasn’t back home just yet. Home means school, pain and anger. I don’t want to be here. I want to be all alone, yet my dreams don’t pull through.
When I awoke, I awoke to my mom’s yelling. “Trey? Are you getting up?” I heard, as I rolled on to my side. On the clock it said “6:30.”
“It can’t be 6:30 already,” I say to myself. I got out of be and walked to the closet. I looked at my small selection of clothes and choose a pair of jeans and a black band shirt. I slip on my old black shoes and head downstairs. My mom had put a bowl on the counter filled with Froot Loops and put the milk next to it. I walk over and sat on the barstool.
“Good morning sweetie,” my mom tells me as she pours her coffee.
“Good morning,” I mumbled back to her and poured my milk into my bowl.
I ate most of my cereal in silence until my younger brother came down stairs. He looked almost exactly like me; chocolate brown hair with a slight tinge of blonde, brown eyes that have golden speckles and come and go with moods, and a perfect smile to die for. Our looks where about all that were the same. He dressed completely different than me but yet the resemblances are still there. He wore a pair of jeans, a light blue polo, and a nice pair of shoes.
I looked like I just woke up and he was all pampered. School wasn’t a high priority for me but it was for him. Our views on culture differed and our opinions in college are vastly different. My parents obviously like Miles more than I but I don’t let that bother me too much.
I never really got along with Miles and we both agreed to disagree.


When my brother, Miles, started to talk to Dad about work stuff, I got up and put my bowl in the sink and went back up stairs. In my room I grabbed my almost empty backpack and I headed back down stairs to leave.
“Bye,” I call from the front door,”See you all later.”
I missed the bus on purpose and walked to school. I got there as the first bell rang. I headed into the school and as I entered the front door everyone parted like the Red Sea. I walked down the path intended for me. All their eyes drilled me and their whispers barely reached my ears. As I continued down the hall my eyes linked with a set of crystal blue eyes filled with joy and sadness. Her reddish brown hair flowed behind her as she walked up to me. She reached for my hand and grabbed hold. She stood on her tip toes and whispers in my ear “Welcome to reality, baby.”
I turned my head and kissed her passionately and said “Reality sucks.”
We continued to talk as we walked down the hall to her class. When we arrived outside her classroom she said “See ya later.”
I let go of her hand and replied “Bye Mackenzie.”
I watched her walk into her science class and I headed off to math. I walked in the door as the tardy bell rang and I wondered to the back of the room to sit with Scott and Jordan.
“Dude, I heard that you tried again,” Scott said looking at me with disbelief.
“Yeah, same here dude. What’s that all about?” Jordan said adding in his look of wonder.
“Why did I try the first two times?” I replied as I pulled out my paper and giving them the “are-you-stupid” look.
They both rolled their eyes and looked back at the teacher. She talked about sine, cosine, and tangent all class and I tried to catch up on the notes.
As school progressed for the day, things became more normal. Lunch was the typical cruddy crap they give us every day and the last few classes dragged by with no hope of speeding up.
As I left the school to head home, I heard Scott and Jordan coming up behind me.
“So….how was your life back at this dismal school?” Jordan asked.
“Did you really have to ask that? It is school,” I replied with little emotion.
“We are going out and partying tonight, are you going to come along?” Scott asked me.
“Come on, we can party because you are still alive and with us,” Jordan said before I could answer.
“I guess I can come. What time?” I asked.
“Awesome,” Scott said.
“We will come get you,” Jordan said.
When I got home, I walked into my house and dropped my stuff on the living room floor. Woody ran up to me and started to bark. “What do you want?” I asked playfully as I ruffed up his sandy brown fur.
Woody started to bark at me and I ran toward the sliding door to let him outside. He ran circles around my feet and started to jump up and down because I just stood next to the door. I opened the door and Woody sprinted out the door and chased a blue bird across the yard.
I gathered my stuff from the living room and went to the kitchen to grab some food to bring to my room. I grabbed a bag of potato chips and a two liter of Pepsi. I let Woody back in when he stood at the door and started to bark at me.
I headed back up stairs with all my stuff and Woody followed me. No one else was home this afternoon so I turned up my surround sound system louder than normal and just lay down on the bed. Woody jumped up on the bed and joined me for a nap. My cell phone started to ring after about twenty minutes of napping.
I rolled off the bed and grabbed my phone, “Hello?” I asked still in a daze.
“Hey, we are waiting outside your house. We rang your doorbell and you didn’t answer. Are you coming or what?” Scott asked me.
“I am coming,” I replied sleepily.
I went down stairs and Woody came bounding after me. I went to the front door and he tried to come too. “Stay Woody. Stay,” I said as I petted his head.
Woody started to whine as I closed the door.
“No, Woody you can’t come with,” I said with patience.
I ran out to Scott’s car and sat next to Mackenzie in the back seat. She slide next to me and sat in my lap. I wrapped my arms around her and she leaned back against my chest and drifted to sleep. I looked out the window over her wind whipped hair and waited for us to arrive.
When we got to Scott’s house, I nudged Mackenzie and she woke up. She looked at up at me and smiled. I opened the door and she climbed out and I followed close behind.
When we walked to the house, I saw a lot of people crammed inside the house. We walked in and weaved in-between people to an empty place. People were crowed around a table, I assumed, that had the alcohol located at it. Mackenzie ran off when she saw a few of her friends and left me to hang with Scott and Jordan.
“Come on,” Jordan said, “We aren’t going to party in here.”
“Okay,” I said, understanding what he was talking about and looking around for Scott.
We headed out behind the house and to the shed. Scott had laid out the stash and began to light up. Jordan and I went over and started in on it.
As I pulled in my first few breathes, my mind started to buzz, the buzz overwhelmed me and I let my mind drift away. All the pain went away as well as my common sense. I was as happy as I could be.


After an hour in the shed, we headed back inside. Scott and Jordan started to flirt with a crowd of girls and I left them. I walked off to find Mackenzie. I found her. She had a crowd of guys all around her and she didn’t seem to mind. They kept touching her and pulling her close to them and she would just giggle. Then she saw me. “Hey babe,” she said, alcohol floating off her breath.
“What do you mean ‘babe’? Doesn’t look you care any more,” I said trying to remain calm.
“These guys don’t mean anything. Nothing at all. You’re the only one who makes my heart beat,” she said as she moved closer and leaned on me.
“Really? For some reason I don’t believe you,” I said as I pushed her off and started to walk towards the door.
She grabbed my shoulder and said “What does that mean?”
“Don’t play stupid. What do you think it means you bitch?” I replied as I shrugged her hand off my shoulder.
“Whatever! You will be crawling back to me. Begging me to be your girlfriend!” she yelled at me as tears welled in her eyes.
“I wasted enough time. Four years was plenty for me,” I shouted back, right before I slammed the door. I sat on the porch and waited for a little bit before I left for home.


I walked back to my house. “This is one really long walk,” I think. I finally did get home, everyone was asleep. My mind felt asleep already but in its dim haze, I couldn’t tell what my body wanted me to do.
I walked through a misty haze for the next few days. I went with out a care and my life was all good.
When the high began to come down, my life cam more into focus. My life sucks and I just get on a high to run away from it. I know my mom and my dad will never find out about it and I don’t care if any one else does. I am just trying to run away.
As many days go by with out the marijuana, I can tell my addiction is getting worse. I need it and my body is screaming to be put up on a high. My only way to survive is through a high. I just can’t get to my stash any time soon.
Scott and Jordan finished it all off with out me and now we can’t afford to buy any more for awhile. We all know that stealing the money from our parents takes months to do and stealing it all at once will give us away.
Miles has driven me crazy because my head hurts from the lack of drugs and he is always practicing his instrument till 10 o’clock at night and my parents praise him for his dedication. I have never been as close to strangling him in my life.
Weeks go by and I know I am getting closer to insanity. I haven’t had my drug and my rate of suicide goes up and up as time goes by. I don’t know how much longer I can go. Miles has noticed the change in my behavior and is now after me. He hasn’t told our parents just yet and he has that look in his eye every morning when we are around them that he is going to do it. I just wish he would just tell them. Telling them will probably help me out more but my common sense goes against it all the way. I know that eventually they will find out on their own and all will be done with.
A couple more days went by and my mom had to leave for the weekend for a teacher’s convention and Miles had a band trip. My dad and I were left alone with each other all weekend. I tried to find a place to go but Scott was on a family trip and Jordan was sick and throwing up. I got stuck at my house.
“Come down here boy!!” I hear my dad scream above my music.
I turn off my music and slowly travel down the stairs. I know what is to come. I am going to be beaten. When I round the corner to the living room I see him standing there looking at me with anger in his eyes.
“You know what is coming. So why don’t you take this and I will let you go without too much physical damage,” he said with slight happiness in his voice.
“You know that sounds very tempting but I am not going to let you beat me with out a fight,” I said sternly hoping to get my point across. I pray that that year in karate will help me now. It has helped me before but knowing that he knows that I know that, he will probably do something to defend that.
I turned and ran. I ran into the kitchen and jumped on the counter.
“Really, son? There were much better places to hide in,” he says as he comes closer.
I leap off the counter and over his head. I land and run. I run into my brother’s room and grab his wooden sword. I dove under the bed and waited. My dad walked in not much later and looked around for me. When I watched his feet get close to me I rolled to the other side of the bed and started to wiggle out. By the time I got out from underneath the bed he was crouched down, looking under the bed for me. I jumped across the bed and swung the sword into his back and watched him crumble onto the floor in pain.
“Get back here you little brat!” he yelled with no pauses.
I ran into the living room and yelled “You haven’t given up yet have you?” I stood on the coffee table, sword in hand, and waited for him to come back down.
He appeared at the top of the stairs with a grimace on his face. “This is not good,” I say as I run to the sliding door in the kitchen. I opened the door and ran to the side of the house and started my climb up the side of the house. I climbed up the gate for the vines that ran to the low section of the roof. When I got to the top I jumped up and grabbed the higher section of the roof and sat beside the chimney.
“Are you done now son? I was just getting started,” he yelled up at me as I heard the gun click.
I slid to the middle of the roof and slide feet first down towards my dad in the back yard. I looked at him as he started toward the door to go back inside. Woody was running around the yard chasing our neighbor’s cat. Woody stopped and starting smelling, he spotted me and started to bark loudly. My dad turned around and looked up at me. I smiled and waved as I turned around and scrambled up to the roof to the other side.
I heard the bullet hit right below my foot, I didn’t bother to look and see what had happened. I finally leaped over the peak and slide down and sat above the front door. I lay down on the roof and just stared at the dim sky as the sun was setting. When night finally set, I went across the roof and to my window. I left it open a crack. I hung down by my feet and opened it the rest of the way. I sat back up and slipped into my room feet first.
I went to my bed and went to flop down but Woody suddenly sat up and licked my arm.
“Come on Woody,” I said as I patted my leg.
Woody happily bounded off the bed and followed me to the door. We quietly go down stairs and I grabbed the leash off the end of the handrail. I click his leash into place and head out the front door. Woody ran ahead to the end of his leash and tried to drag me along. I lead Woody to the nearby park and brought him to the bark park. I let Woody go and he started to run around smelling things. I walked to a near by bench and watched him for awhile. Woody was playing in the trees and every time a branch with leaves on it landed on his head, he tried to eat the leaves. When he saw me watching him, he leaped over the nearby log and bounded toward me. He barked at me playfully and started to nudge me with his nose.
After a few hours, I brought Woody back home and went up to hide in my room. I locked the door and planned on spending the rest of the weekend in there. When morning came, I didn’t move even though I heard my dad. When my mom came home she asked “How was your weekend?”
“Nothing really happened, but Trey needs to visit a mental hospital because he attacked me,” my dad replied.
My anger rose the more he spoke, I yelled “I can’t believe you!”
I paced around my room and waited for my parents to leave for the afternoon. As lunch approached, they finally left for their lunch. After they left, I roamed around the house. Miles came home before my parents and he asked me “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Gone, thank God. Dad is a psycho path,” I replied, barely looking at him.
“He isn’t a psycho path. What could he have possibly done to you? You probably caused whatever it was,” he stated as harshly and sternly as possible.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said as I stood up, “He tried to beat me up, so I defended myself with your wooden sword and then he tried to kill me!” I yelled back.
“I thought you wanted to die?” Miles asked as he sat down with a smile on his face.
“I wish to die by my own hand, not his,” I replied quickly.
“It would be the same thing. Admitting defeat to life because you are too weak to survive,” Miles said promptly.
“You don’t know what you are talking about!” I yelled as I leaped over the coffee table, “It is none of your business of what goes on in my life.”
“Please don’t hurt me,” Miles said mockingly.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” I replied as I lunged at him. I wrapped my fingers around his throat and started to choke him. As I started to fell his breathing decrease and his pulse slow, I heard the front door open. My dad pulled me off him and brought me to my room. My mom called an ambulance for my brother and the cops for me.

The mental hospital became my playground. Kids with worse stories than mine all meet in one place. People to convince and to learn from all within in my reach. Cliques are formed and rumors fly all around but to start out I couldn’t leave my room. I saw peering eyes through the window and saw people talking and pointing at me. I was the new animal in their insane zoo.
I talked to the physiologist but never really opened up about it all. I told them about my tried attempts at suicide and my drug addiction but the rest stayed nice and safe in my own mind. Family problems and social problems were all mine to deal with.
As weeks went by, I was allowed to socialize with other people. My time was normally spent in a secluded area of the room, not wanting to talk to any one. I was waiting to go back to my room and spend quality time with just me.
Every morning, they gave me an anti-depressant, to help me become a happier person, and something to calm the addiction monster. I kept the anti-depressant but took the other stuff. The anti-depressant was stored away with my stuff in the drawers next to my very small cot.


I don’t know what drove this act but a lot of things happened that week. I have always been for treating a girl right even if they are a bitch.
As I headed for lunch, like every day, I noticed five guys standing in one of the rec rooms on the way there. They were all standing in a circle around what seemed to be some girl and they all seemed a little bit too happy. I should have gone on my “happy” way and gone to lunch but I decided to see what was going on.
They all looked at each other as I walked in the room. “This wasn’t a good idea,” I thought but I kept on walking. “What are you guys doing?” I asked as I looked at the whimpering girl on the floor.
One of the guys stepped in the way of my sight and said “Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t really,” I said back.
“Then leave,” One of the other guys said.
“No, I don’t think I will. I want to watch television in here,” I replied and sat on the couch.
The guys came up behind me and started to flip the couch as I leaped up and punched one in the face. The other four grabbed me and pinned me to the wall.
“Now you can watch her suffer,” the leader of the group said.
He walked up to her and started to kick her and push her around. She screamed and cried “Please don’t do this.”
He then started to mess around with his belt. Before he got much farther I worked my hand into my pocket and grabbed the paper clip and stabbed the guy closest to me with it. He cried out “What the hell!?” and pushed me farther into the wall.
I grunted and tried to get away but I knew I couldn’t do anything for this girl. This was one on my worst choices yet.
The guy dropped his pants and I closed my eyes. I heard her yell and cry. There was nothing I could do to help her until they let me go. I prayed that someone would hear her but I think the door was closed after I walked in. The guilt was eating me up and I know I was the next one to suffer.
When he was done with her he came to me and punched my in the gut a couple times and said “Don’t ever let me see your face around me again.”
I crumbled to the ground and waited for them to leave. After they were gone I crawled over to her and tried to help but she kept on yelling “Don’t touch me!”
I kept on trying to help but I understood where she came from. I finally went unconscious because of the blood loss.

When I came to I was lying in my room and there was a security guard sitting in the corner of the room. I sat up and asked “Why am I back in here?”
He jumped slightly and said “You are going to isolation soon.”
“What for?!” I shouted back in confusion.
“You will find out.”
I sat and waited for the director to come and explain to me what I did wrong. When he did arrive he didn’t tell me anything but “Come with me.”
I stood up and after he walked out the door, I went to my drawers and grabbed my anti-depressants and put them in my pocket.
He led me to the far hallway and brought me to one of the many white rooms. He said “You need to sit in here and think about what you did to that girl.”
“I didn’t do anything to her. I was trying to save her. It was a group of guys that did that to her. I swear I didn’t do anything. Please don’t do this to me,” I pleaded.
“Just think about what you have done,” he said back.
I walked into the room and did as I was told. The room had pads every where and I doubted I could get out of here anytime soon so I did what was last resort. I grabbed the 30 some odd anti-depressants and dry swallowed them whole. I lay down on the ground and waited till the end. The end was all that I needed after writing this last story of my life.