Bullet

**Trigger Warning**

[Based off of the song Bullet by Hollywood Undead]

The last thing you remembered was sitting on the roof of your flat with your two best friends- a bottle of pills and a bottle of gin. You could hear sirens in the distance and had assumed that your mother had found your note and called the police. Then you’d noticed the smoke in the distance. You stood up and immediately sat back down again when a wave of dizziness overwhelmed you. You stared up at the night sky, struggling to breathe. You reached up one heavy hand, trying to trace the outline of a constellation, wondering vaguely where the sun was. Why was it always night? What did life mean if you couldn’t dream? If you could just sleep...

You weren’t sure when you blacked out.

You did know when you woke up. You hadn’t expected to. Your head was pounding as you pushed yourself up to your elbows, forcing open your impossibly heavy eyelids to see him watching you. He had bags under his eyes and looked exhausted but his expression brightened when he saw you were awake.

“Hello,” he mumbled, his relief clear as he moved to your bedside, “How are you feeling?”

You let your head fall back to the pillow and clenched your jaw to keep the tears from coming. You had survived again. You had been so persistent. The numerous scars on your wrist were proof enough of your previous attempts. You had thought that this time it would work. You had even made sure to buy a proper suit for the funeral. You wanted to look nice when you went to meet God. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, “How’d you know?”

His forced smile faltered and he ducked his head, “You weren't yourself earlier. I was worried. I went to check on you and...” the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. You could hear the tension in his voice, the barely disguised hurt and guilt. It made the aching in your chest worsen horribly and you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. He pulled you into his arms and you could feel him shaking as he rocked you back and forth like you were the most fragile thing in the world. The weight of your own shame was crushing and you found that you could hardly breathe beneath it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whimpered over and over again, clinging to him like a child. “I just want it to stop. Please just make it stop.”

He peppered kisses to your face and hair, tears streaking down his freckled cheeks. The dread he had felt when he found you, the terror that he might lose you, the guilt that he hadn’t noticed sooner, the relief that you were still here were too much to bear. “Please never do that again,” he pleaded, “Please don’t leave me. Nothing is worth losing you so please, please stay with me. Please.”