Maybe it's a natural state of wanting to die, but it's not healthy. I know this already, but he's gone, and it might as wel be my fault.

"Ye thou I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death. I will fear no evil. Thou art with me. Thy rod, thy staff, thy comfort me..." The pastor was chanting the same prayer he would speak for any other funeral. It was so monotoned and soft that I was about to sleep, but I didn't. I stood next to the empty hole in the empty cemetary, staring at the full casket with Jon's corpse. Nobody cared for his dead body, but it was me who put him there. The casket felt empty.

"You're the biggest dummy in this whole school!" kids had chanted together. Jon had drawings marked on his tear-stained face as he became backed up against the wall. Nobody liked him, and I wasn't just going to stand up for the moron, either. Truth be told, I'm the leader of Jon's bulleys, and Jon is the most fun to pick on at this big elementary school. The guy has no friends, so our fun can last longer.

"What's wrong, freak? Want your mommy?" I sneered, kicking the defenseless boy's thigh. He was screaming and crying until one of the teachers outside on the playground broke us away from the crybaby. Before my group left, I spit at his shoes and groaned, "Another day." My last look was a sharp glare towars the teacher before running and laughing my way into the playground.

The whistle blew into my mind when tomorrow came for recess again. Jon was playing by himself on the blacktop against the brick school, his dinosaurs tearing at eachother violently. Time to play with the frowning kid today.

My stomping claimed the ground fiercely as I came to the quivering, crying boy. Stupid baby. I opened my mouth to say something when a familiar object was pointed at my forehead. What the hell was it, though? It took me a moment to realize a gun was in front of me. "Don't even think about moving," Jon choked out, the gun seething slowly in his hands.

"P-put the gun-"

"Shut up!" he screamed. "You can't tell me what to do anymore! I moake the decisions now!" I felt tears stroll casually down my cheeks as faint screams about the gun were being shouted only a couple feet away. Suddenly, the gun was not in my face any longer, but that was only a moment's relief Jon stuffed the gun into his mouth, his finger hesitantly pulling the trigger.

I shakily reached out my hand to takt the gun away, "Jon, no!"

"You know my name, Kathy," he said before he pulled the trigger. BANG. That was the last thing I remember. It was his blood splattered freedom.

I thought I was dead.