Tears streaming down his face

He reaches for the belt in his closet.

He looks up at his ceiling fan.

“Will it hold me?”

No.

He reaches for the open razorblade on his wardrobe.

“Will it cut deep enough?”

Maybe.

He stares at all the bottles.

The pills and the alcohol.

“What if my stomach gets pumped?”

More importantly,

“What if I live?”

They pushed him down the stairs today.

They shoved him in a locker yesterday.

They beat him up on Monday.

His parents are trying to pull him out of school

But nothing can stop how he views himself now.

Worthless.

Coward.

Abuser.

Rapist.

One mistake with a girl at a party and his life is over.

He didn’t know she was drunk.

Hell, he didn’t even know he was drunk.

Finally, someone paid attention to him.

But, it all happened so quickly.

A black eye?

Rape?

Strangulation?

“Who am I?”

He can’t live with this.

“I’m a murderer.”

Walking out of his room, he gets into his car.

He backs out of the driveway, merges onto the highway.

Speeding, the cops catch on.

He pulls out a gun, not even loaded,

And aims it at the cops.

He pulls the trigger.

*BANG*

Foolproof.

The next day in school the students still called him a coward.

Death these days is never tragic.

A person will always want another person dead.

And so the school mourns the death of the girl…

…And rejoices in the death of her killer.