The music played softly in the background Angry words flowing from the speakers and through the thick air He stared blankly at the desk Leaned his head back and closed his eyes This is it. Last chance. No turning back. He opened his eyes and blinked His eyes became blurry with the newly formed tears Tears of fear, depression, and with-held anger He roughly wiped away his tears, a sign of weakness they were, he thought I am not weak. I am not weak. The dim light coming from the lamp flickered, giving the room an eerie feeling He picked up a pen and signed his name on the worn piece of paper lying on the old desk I hope the know what they've put me through. He opened the drawer to the left of him and reached to the back He brought out a shoe box and set it in front of him Sliding his fingers slowly over the worn box, he opened the top and peered inside Closing the lid, he stood Slowly, he paced to the stereo and turned the nob The music was no longer soft, but loud, making it sound even more angry then before He stopped and listened, taking in the music for the last time He closed his eyes once more, trying to steady his shaking body What's wrong with me? I'm doing the right thing. There is no other way. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and bare back He slid his forearm over his brow to wipe away the unwanted moisture Walking over to the window, he looked outside and observed the children playing across the street Look at them. So innocent. So happy. Not for long... He could see their bright, wide, and lively eyes Laughing away and having a good time The haven't learned of all the hate in this world. I feel for them, for soon they will know how I feel. He turned his back to the window and walked back to the desk He took a seat in the uncomfortable, creeky chair He placed his hands on the desk, fingers intertwined, and let his eyelids fall Lord forgive me. Forgive them. Have mercy on my soul. Opening his red eyes, he slid the shoe box closer to him Reaching his fingers under the edges of the top, he lifted it off and placed it carefully on his desk He stuck both his hands into the depth of the box and retrieved his fate He was shaking, while reviewing what his life had come to He ran his fingers over the shiny metal, examining every inch of it He disabled the safety and peered into the round barrel I am ready. No more. Here we go. He slowly moved his index finger to the trigger Time was passing so slowly, all seemingly in slow motion The tip of his finger curled around the metal lever He took a slow, deep breath in, filling his lungs and placed the gun right between his eyes He dropped his eyelids, blocking out the last light of his life Gently, he squeezed his index finger over the trigger CLICK He breathed in hard, and opened his eyes The gun still staring him in the face He suddenly realized he forgot to load the gun He released his grip on the hunk of dangerous metal He watched as it dropped to the desk in slow motion Hearing the noise it made when it struck the desk made him jump Then his focus shifted, as he heard the angry words still flowing through the heavy air Shaking, he slowly lifted himself out of the chair, carrying himself across the room on his weak legs He reached the window and suppoted himself with one arm He viewed the children happily playing again, then looked to the bright blue sky I don't want to die. Not now. Not like this. His eyes swelled with tears, but this time, he just let them flow freely down his face, not wiping them away for now they were tears of strength.