The gun sits in the middle of the table. All of us sit watching it. Loaded. One bullet in the chamber.

Click.

Misfire.

November –

They’re here, finally. The $10 I borrowed so that I could buy a hoodie. The deliverance of a birthday cake. The start of a fan club. Something that I could be apart of, not knowing what had happened the day before. The start of it all. All of us in a room but unaware of the bond we would soon share.

Fate.

December –

Rushing to catch the bus. “Izzy I have something to tell you.”

Slower but still rushing as you told me you met him. The pang of jealousy I felt but quickly tried to squash. That they knew before I did. Before me.

But … But you all just met.

Why am I the last to know? I brush it off and share in the sheer excitement of it all.

“Are you mad at me for not telling you?”

“No.”

February –

A little cafe in K-town where we had a tiny but funny dispute of a photo card. The letter I got to send and the heat on my skin as you told me I was pretty. That I was your best friend. That we had grown closer and that you loved me too.

That night on the bus in the frigid air of 2014, when I had become yours.

The chamber is spun.

Click.

My brains hit the wall.

That stupid ass text message I sent to protect what was mine. Those same words coiling around my neck. Strangling me. My body strung from a branch like strange fruit. And you standing at the base of the tree watching me swing in the breeze.

I wait for you to cut me down.

But you never do.

“Where is she?!”
“I’m going to kill her.”
“Where is she?”

The panic. The shame to know that he had told you what I said. The man I love going to someone else, speaking about me with me with someone else.

Skinning me alive in front of someone else.

To know that what he had told was wrong and what I had actually said was … You know what, forget it.

March –

“Izzy you’re wanted in the chat room.”

Palms sweaty. Heart racing. I’d rather be dead.

“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. You know we’re family right?””Yes.”

I’m in again.

Loved again.

I can do right.

Except I can’t.

I’m unable to speak against you because I wasn’t the one who got myself here in the first place. How dare I? How dare the feelings of wrong and discord bother my tongue and choke me as I bite them back.

“It’s not about you. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for here.”

Ya. What the hell is that supposed to mean.

Click.

Misfire.

Through thick and thin. Forever. No matter what. The first time I had felt a blood connection with people other than blood. The dangerous notion to know that I would do anything in my power to keep us going.

The pain to know that my best still wasn’t good enough.

“Izzy. This is stupid. Go apologize to her. This is your final warning”
“Was that a threat?”
“Yes.”

Click.

My brains hit the wall.

I stared up at the fingers curled around the handle of the gun.

It’s you.

All of you.

I stand up despite my injury. Despite the fact that I’m dying.

I raise my gun to your face.

Fire.

“Why?” We speak at the same time.

“Izzy. I’m sorry. I was just- just so mad at you …”
“No, I don’t want to hear it.”

I’m done. It’s done. It’s over.

“Do not call me. Do not think about me. Don’t text me. Don’t even let your breath drift in my direction. Goodbye.”

You would have really done it. You would’ve really stood there at the bottom of that tree watching me hang as people told you what they thought they knew.

You would’ve let them come for me.

And I would’ve sent for you.

The gun sits in the middle of the table. We all watch it. We all watch each other.

Lunge. Scuffle. Click.

It’s empty.

It’s always been empty.