The shame.

You know you've done it.
Done something wrong.
The evil eats away inside of you.

You hide your face in shame.
You need someone to find it.
And pull it out.

A friend.
A good friend.
A friend who cares.

But there are none.
They're all gone.

The shame eats away inside of you.
Growing.
Swelling.

You can't handle another minute.
And you don't.

You find the sidearm.
Hidden in your parent's sock drawer.
You load it.
Pull the trigger.

They were right.

You never hear the sound.

Dead on contact.
Dead on arrival.
And all your sobbing friends can say is

"Why?"

You wonder to yourself.

Why....