On the Forefront of Death

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Another tear trickled down my face. It was one in a stream of thousands, pouring from my bloodshot eyes. My breathing was heavy, and everything was a blur. I tried my hardest to keep my hands steady, to hold my iPod still. However, it was growing harder by the second, as I saw the horrific scene playing out before me.

On FaceTime I saw two things: my best friend, Andy*, and the bullet in his fingers. He was at peace, staring at the bullet in his hand. He seemed to be mesmerized by it; so small, yet so deadly.

To him, it was a Godsend. It was the simple escape from all the pain and suffering he’d endured. To me, it was the perfect gift from hell, poised and ready to kill.

I relived every moment with him, knowing that those memories may soon be all I had. I was overcome by pain and sorrow.

Then, I was overwhelmed by a wave of rage.

I was furious, because I knew he didn’t get to this place on his own. Riley* and Kara* had finally gotten to him, with their endless torment- the daily bullying and humiliation.

Over the weeks, they’d convinced Andy that he was a failure. They had convinced everyone around him that he was a weirdo, a freak, someone who you should try to avoid at all costs. They had even managed to convince some of his closest friends that he was someone they didn’t want to be around. They had started a rumor about him that he would never be able to live down.

Andy was bisexual, and they thought the whole world should know.

People started to look at him differently. They no longer saw him as the football jock that all the ladies loved and the guys envied.

His friends were scared to be around him, for fear of being tormented themselves. Those who didn’t know him began to refer to him as “that bisexual kid.” He received nasty looks from mostly everyone as he walked down the hallway, the whispers echoing all around him.

He felt like no one loved him anymore, because of something he couldn’t change.

They had finally pushed him to the edge. One more push now, and it would all be over.

“Please, get rid of that,” I pleaded.

“Why? It makes me feel… safe. Having it with me... knowing that when all hell breaks loose again, I can stop it. I can’t give that up,” he retorted.

“Andy. I won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing you’re in danger. I need you to do this for me. I need you to stay alive for me… I need you,” I managed to whisper through the sobs and sniffles, “Please.”

He must have seen the pain in my face because- with an unmistakable sigh- he stood up, and filled the sink high with water.

As he dropped the bullet in, I was able to breathe again.

Bullying wasn’t worth his life.

*Name has been changed





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