Looking back on what happened, I think I caught myself laughing. No one ever thought that I might die today, except maybe you. You were also the only one who would really care if I were gone. Life is funny like that, don’t you think?

I can still see gray smoke rise from the barrel and evaporate into nothing; the glare from the silvery shell on the ground is almost too bright for me to look at. The greater the light is, the greater the shadow that follows it is. That sounds like a quote from somewhere, but I can’t think clearly enough to remember where. All the yelling from crowds doesn’t help much either. The paramedics say that the area’s going to be evacuated soon, but I wouldn’t envy the poor guy with that job.

I hope that you’ll remember everything that happened today. But I want you to remember it for yourself, not for me or anything else. I know I will, because my memories of it keep pounding at my mind like the waves of a stormy sea crashing onto shore. I think that somehow I wanted to tell you what I was thinking today, even though I know you’ll never hear it.

The one thing that still gets me is why you chose the mall for this. I could understand the woods or your house or even behind that old rundown dollar theater. But the mall, where anyone could have stopped you? It’s not like you. But, I guess if you had done it somewhere else, it would have been worse. A lot worse.

There was something strange in the way you asked me to come with you, but I brushed it off, thinking it was just one of your moods. Stupid me. You didn’t want to talk to me, or even look at me, as if you were hiding some terrible anguish that you couldn’t say without bursting into tears. I tried to cheer you up on the ride there, and I was even going to buy you that dress you’ve been gaping at for months as a surprise, hoping you would forget about whatever had made you so miserable. Another stupid mistake.

You still gave me the silent treatment as we walked into the main entrance. I was worried that you wanted to break up with me, and I my mind went in circles asking, why would you drag me here if you didn’t like me anymore and why did you want to leave me? It wasn’t that I had an ego problem; I just expected the worst to happen. How ironic that I didn’t really know what the worst was.

I always thought getting shot would hurt more than it really does. Sure, it stings like a thousand fire ants swarming over my chest, but this pain is nothing compared to the pain that crossed your gentle face when you pulled out your dad’s .38 caliber. I’m sure that shock must have painted mine, too, with a touch of hurt and confusion. I’ll never forget that look you gave me when the lethal thing caressed your face, accenting the sorrow that dulled your azure eyes.

Panic struck me immediately after I realized what you really came here for. Before you even had a chance to take aim, I grappled for the gun against an unforeseen struggle. I should have known you’d put up a fight once you were determined to do something.

I know it sounds sort of cliché, but everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion and all at once. Does that make any sense? I don’t know. Anyway, if I had to guess, I’d say the first thing that must have happened was that I tried to stop your hand. I would have broken it, too, just to get rid of the loathsome thing. But I guess your hand must have already been on the trigger, because the gun misfired and pierced my chest like a barbed spike that struck at point-blank range.

I fell to the ground as if some invisible man had sucker-punched me in the stomach. I bled freely onto the marble floor, standing in disbelief of what had happened. Suddenly, everyone in the mall rushed towards the scene, creating utter chaos. It never ceases to amaze me how human nature draws us towards conflicts and strife. People can never just mind their own business, although I guess I can’t blame them. I did the same thing.

Of course, a bystander immediately called 911, frantically mashing the buttons on their cell phone. I doubt that the paramedics can save me now, even though they’re here now and are binding a tourniquet around my blood-stained chest.

I remember vividly the last words we spoke together before they had to rope off the area with that “police line” tape. “Why, Tyler?” you nearly screamed, tears steaming down your cheeks and falling onto mine.

“Hey, that’s my question,” I laughed weakly. Normally, you would have bitten my head off at a remark like that, but you just gazed down at me and smiled. It was a bittersweet smile that radiated despair.

It seemed like every word you spoke had to be coaxed from your quivering mouth. “I just couldn’t handle everything. My mom… she passed away. I lost my job. I was falling behind at college. You were always too busy with work, and I had no one to turn to. So I… wanted to end it.”

“I was there,” I whispered. “I’d quit the paper for you; you know that. You have a great life, Rachel. Why throw it away?”

“But now you’re dying because of me,” you cried, eyes red and swollen with make-up running.

“No,” I said calmly. “I’m dying because of me.” I started hacking and felt sickeningly warm blood climb up my throat. “Don’t blame yourself. Your suicide would’ve hurt me even more than this slug does.”

I had wondered why you wanted to stay by my side for so long, but now I realize how much blood I’ve lost and how pale my skin is turning. I never thought my life would end this way, and I wish we could have spent more time together. I guess it’s all the little nothings that we regret most when it’s our turn to die. Then, nothing matters after our worries and fears through talking, and you reach a kind of closure that doesn’t really solve anything, but you feel happy anyway. At least that’s the case for me. I’m speaking in riddles again, aren’t I?

The paramedics keep telling me to hold on, but it seems like they’re just prolonging the inevitable. I thought that I had seen true power when that gun fired, but now, I think that the most awesome force within our grasp is hope. Sometimes it helps, and sometimes it’s a waste of emotion. But it’s always a light that can lead us through our misguided lives if we let it. Whether anyone believes that or not, at least that thought makes me feel better.

As they load me into the ambulance and hook me up to an IV and blood pack, my thoughts seems distant, even alien, and I’m almost sure that I can hear myself calling. Calling your name.