Ending

Afraid

Thomas waited outside while the doctor spoke to his father privately. His hands were sweating and he kept rubbing them on his jeans; he had never been so nervous. When he was asked to wait, he instantly knew it was something serious. He cursed the day he told his father about the weird lumps he found in his neck. His dad did some research but decided not to tell him about anything he read about, he just took him to the hospital.

He told the doctor about how he felt tired all the time, the small bruises that appeared on his body randomly, and even the night sweats and his weight loss.

Now he was sitting, waiting for his dad to come back and tell him, his heart beating faster than ever before, hoping this stupid thing wouldn't ruin his life.

None of his prayers were answered. He didn't notice how long his father was in there, didn't know if it was just for some minutes or endless hours, all he knew was that he wasn't the same person when he came back. He heard the door open in front of him. Immediately jerking his head up, reality punched him as he saw his father's face.

Whatever he was feeling before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He felt his heart sink, tears starting to prick his eyes.

"Dad?" he whispered, slowly getting up and placing a hand on the man's shoulder. He noticed the doctor standing at the door, his face full of pity. "Dad..." his voice was filled with pain, he was now unsuccessfully trying to choke back tears.

"T-" the man sobbed "Thomas" he pulled his son, holding him close. The tight hug lasted for minutes, Thomas could feel the taste of his salty tears, occasionally bringing his hand up to his face, wiping some of those. His vision was blurry and he felt weak, his head hurt and Thomas feared he would pass out on the hospital floor. He pulled away slightly, looking at his dad.

"Can you please talk to me?"

"I can't just-" he sighed "We h-have to do this at home, Tom"

-/-

He finally had it. After days of planning and gathering courage for this day, he finally had a gun.

Thomas looked at it, his hands shaking a little. He had spent nights thinking about how it should go.

His father was the only one in the house besides him, in the living room downstairs. He didn't want his father to find him, his own son, dead in his room, but he didn't have much of a choice. Out of everyone in his family, it would have to be him.

He couldn't do it outside; he would never risk scarring someone's life with that image. What if he was found by a child? What if it was someone going through a rough time, someone who was considering doing the same thing one day and he made it worse? It didn't matter, anyone who'd see the dead body of a teenager, a boy gone too soon, someone who took their own life, would definitely never forget it; it would be cruel.

At least his father would understand why he did it and everything would be taken care of before his mother and sister could get to see him in that state. His dad would have to explain his reasons and hopefully they would understand, or at least not blame him for his decision.

He kneeled on the wooden floor, turning the gun in his hands, noticing its details. This little although slightly heavy thing was about to end his life, take his pain away.

Fear took over. What if there was nothing after that? What if it was just a bang and it was all over? But if was just void after that, wouldn't it be better? Then, he wouldn't have to think about the people he left behind, or feel guilty for doing so.