Warning: This has a death scene that may be sensitive to others. Do not read if you're struggling with depression. Unless it's self diagnosed depression.

Kyle's POV

I took out my pistol and stared at it, my heart pounding.

For the last few months, I've been trying to keep on living.

Unfortunately, I am always in the shadows of my friends, the heroes.

I am the ninth wheel, and the one who is usually forgotten.

Not on purpose, it just happens.

But even then, it hurts.

They say I'm a hero for saving them, but I'm not, I can't be...

I worked for Damian for my own selfish reasons.

I grabbed a bullet from my pockets.

I regret that, especially when I saw him again.

They say they forgive me and they understand.

I appreciate that, I really do...

But it's not enough.

My best friend, Alex, we seem to have drifted apart.

It might have been my imagination, but even then, it just feels like all he has time for is Sheila.

I loaded the gun.

I shouldn't blame Sheila or Alex, they just fell in love.

Love, something I've never had, and will never get.

I tried to stay strong and look on the bright side.

But I've been traumitized by the war, my past, my selfish acts...

It's too much for me, I've tried to cope, but I can't anymore.

Fake it till you make it. Ha, who was the asshole who came up with those words?

A fake smile plastered on my face, while my insides are being torn apart from depression.

I remembered the promise I made with Meeps, the last person who seemed to care, besides Kaylee.

Oh Meeps, I thought. I'm so sorry.

I can't live like this, swallowed with grief and misery.

I put the gun to my forehead.

I can't...

I tried to...

I'm sorry...

Please forgive me...

Please, please, please forgive me.

I pulled the trigger and fired.