Six Bullets

It was dark outside, with a million stars around her. She was walking through town, shivering with adrenaline, cold metal in her hand, blood running down her wrists. She wasn't sure where she was going, or how she'd end up there, but she needed to escape.

There were six bullets in the gun. Six chances to take a life. But would she need all of them? Probably not. She smiled as the sound of a bullet split the air, far away. How many would hear her gun? A hundred?

She thought of his face, smiling, as he played his guitar. But then he went and betrayed her, and how could she look at him again? All the pain she had been through had finally built up to the point of no return.

Her friends would cry, she knew that. But did she even have any friends anymore? They would all end up at the funeral, cry for a while, then smile and go about their day as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly she couldn't make it any farther. She collapsed onto the ground, leaning against a brick wall, sobbing. She threw the gun down, far away. She pulled out the note she had written and crumpled it in her hand. Why was she giving up? Why didn't she care anymore?

Somebody ran up to her, breathing heavily. The person collapsed onto their knees, handing her a note. She stared at the person who had just run up. Blonde hair was falling out from the hood of the person's jacket. The person was tired, she could see that. She opened the note and read it.

"I know what you're trying to do. And if you know what's best for everyone, you'll stop. Don't kill yourself. Stay out of the darkness. I'm sorry for what I did. It wasn't my fault. Just wait another day and you'll see why I'm apologizing."

She looked at the person who gave it to her, who was on her knees, still out of breath.

"He told me…to give it…to you." The person said, still out of breath.

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, still sobbing. He had cared enough to write that note and send it out with the one person who could still stop her. She hadn't realized he still cared.

She stood up and instantly collapsed into the blonde-haired girl's arms, crying.

It was amazing what a piece of paper could do.

24 hours later a bright red rose and a small cardboard box showed up on Gwen's porch. When she picked them up, she saw the note. His messy handwriting was hard to read, but she knew what it said.

"From Trent. If you kill yourself Bridgette said she's going to bring you back from the dead and kill you again. Now do you really want that to happen?"

Inside the cardboard box were six golden bullets.

All had been fired.