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© Cameron Cook

Tears dropped from her soft face; her self-pitying had been going on for what seemed like hours. Everything felt wrong — no one liked her, and now – dumped? She fiddled with the .38 caliber revolver in her hands and sniffed once more.

The TV could be heard downstairs, some reality show. The announcer gleamed, “Lisa and Danny, you are out of the game. You can leave now or sacrifice your winnings, the car and $45,000, to remain in the game starting off at $0 and in last place.”

The bastard of a man she dared to call father roared at the TV, “Ha! What a nasty twist. Bet they deserved it!! Get the hell off the game, no one likes you guys!” He stopped yelling at the TV and growled into a different direction, “Hey, honey, they should take it so they can lose next week and get nothing – those fucking bastards deserve nothing.”

Her tears broke out again as she sank into another sobbing fit. The sound of his voice was sickening. The memory of his most recent drunken frenzy remained in her aching body. Her naturally straight black hair, currently an off-red color from the middle down, swung over her face as she bent over the revolver. He should die.

With shaking hands, she fumbled around her bed covers until she found the single bullet buried within. Struggling, she managed to still her shaking fingers just enough to jam the bullet into one of the five chambers.

First things first – she made a promise to herself. No one wants her around anymore anyways – dad beats her, mom stands by quietly, boyfriend dumped her, best friend moved away… There was nothing left to live for.

One in a five chance, she said to herself, one in a five. If even God doesn’t want me in this world he’ll kill me with this. If he doesn’t, I’ll change my life and ask Sean out to make up for the bastard I was with. Afterwards, I might even get out of this house. But if this world isn’t for me - tell me, tell me! She calmed her tears and closed her eyes.

She spun the cylinder and listened to the soft clicking before she snapped it shut. Once the hammer was cocked, she pointed the barrel at the side of her head. This is how they do it on TV. After considering her ‘post-suicide-attempt’ resolutions, she was ready. In truth, she hoped the chamber would be empty – her brave resolutions actually sounded good. No, she wouldn’t chicken out this time; she was going to do it, pull the trigger.

1….

2….

3….

She squeezed both fingers on the trigger and clamped her eyes shut.

Crack!

The shot reverberated though the entire house. It only took a second before her mom darted up the staircase; she knew what the shot was – but didn’t want to believe it. Her dad followed quickly, but was not alarmed. By the time he entered the room, his wife was already crying hysterically at the side of the bed, afraid to go any further.

Carnage was splattered everywhere. Blood ran down his daughter’s head, from a point just above the ear, while puddles of the red liquid lay soaking into the sheets. The wall was splattered with blood. The exit wound looked as clean as the entrance and a hole dug into the wall beneath the scattered gore.

9-1-1 had already been dialed on his cell phone — some operator was trying to talk to him but the phone lay dangling in his hand. He thought she had accidentally fired it; it was meant to kill someone else, not herself. He was prepared for the worst; he knew his mistakes caused her to hate him deeply — but this? He was shocked.

“Hello, anyone there? What’s your emergency?”

He stuck his ear to the phone. “My daughter is injured badly, a gunshot wound. I don’t know if she is still alive.”

He brushed his free hand though his freshly cut hair and pulled lightly at the ends. He knew he had screwed up. He should never have shown her the family heirloom – his grandfather’s revolver – when she asked about it. He should never have explained to her how to use it. He had thought it was daughter-father bonding. But it led to this. Maybe if he hadn’t drunk so much. Maybe if he didn’t hit her. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.

His wife flashed a glance at him. A glance at his unshaven face and large potbelly, his white shirt and jean shorts. And mouthed, “What did you do?”

He looked back at her with a nod of his head and mouthed in response, “I don’t know.” At this point, her underweight body shut down, blocking everything out. She had just lost her only daughter, all because of the bastard she’d married.

Six minutes passed before the blaring sirens reached their house. Several policemen barged into the room, along with several medics, followed by equipment and more police. They rushed upstairs – the medical group halted at the scene.

She wasn’t ‘injured’ by a gunshot; she was shot in the head, dead. A single man carefully walked up to the body. If this was going to turn into a crime scene, it was best not to contaminate the area. He placed two gloved fingers on her neck – nothing. Her wrist – nothing. Eight minutes had already gone by since the incident. It was impossible for someone in such condition to survive that long. The room was silent. Yet another victim of teen suicide.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open and she sucked in a deep lungful of air. Her scream echoed though the entire building, breaking its solemn remorse. She lunged at the shocked medic and wrapped her arms around him in a death-hold. She started weeping uncontrollably. Her mumbled sobs where muffled by his thick gear.

Impossible. How was she still alive?

“Lilly?” her mom sniffed, relieved she was still somehow alive.

Lilly unburied her face from the medic’s chest and pleaded in between her sobs, “Don’t… Please don’t… let him touch me… Don’t ever let him touch me again…” She broke out into more heavy sobs and muttered a few inaudible phrases before continuing, “It burns, burns… so much pain…” She sniffed and glanced over at her arm, still clutching the medic. She dropped her voice to a low hum, “I can still feel him. Don’t make me go back, don’t make me go… ever.”

Lilly’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she went limp against the guy’s chest. Her pulse went still; ten seconds passed. Beat. He felt a light thud; she slowly sucked in air and went still again.

“I need assistance ASAP!” he roared at his shocked partners.

Within moments Lilly was hooked up to medical ventilators and dragged down stairs on a rolling bed with three medics surrounding her. Once in the ambulance, they could see the chart of her heartbeats on the monitor. A single long line hummed for nine seconds before a quick beep took over and the flat bar shot up for just a moment. Then the hum continued. It was as if she died and was revived every ten seconds.