Mike was on the ground and there was blood everywhere. Through his tears, Micky spotted it.

A gun.

The same gun Micky himself had almost used.

Mike'd shot himself.

"Michael!" Micky fell to his knees beside the older boy and desperately felt for pulse. Somehow—he wasn't sure how, but somehow—Mike was still alive. But barely.

"Help!" Micky screamed. He cradled Mike and was getting blood all over himself, but he didn't care. He couldn't leave. "Somebody help! Please!"

Micky was sobbing uncontrollably and looked down at Mike. His face was covered in blood, but Micky could see his eyes were closed. He was barely breathing.

"Somebody help! Please!"