"No!" Gran screamed. "No, you can! I made some calls this morning. There’s a facility the next town over. They can help you, Emmett. We can get you better."
My hand faltered slightly before pushing harder into my temple. “But it won’t stop, Gran. Everything hurts so much and I can’t take it anymore. Please. Please understand.”
I heard Clint huff on the other side. “Like hell. I’ve had enough of this shit. Stand back, Marah.” I began to panic as I heard him kicking at the door. Finally hearing it come crashing down. I briefly saw the look of horror on my grandmother’s face before I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened.
"It wasn’t loaded." Clint was the first to move, slumping against the wall with a sigh of relief. My eyes widened, the gun falling to the floor at my feet. Gran reached out, slowly coming toward me.
I backed away, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. “Why?” I rasped, shaking my head. “Why!” The back of my legs bumped into the couch and I crashed down on it. A cry escaped my lips. My fists meeting my forehead.
"Emmy." Gran whispered and I looked up, the tears rolling down my cheeks blurred my vision. Her thumbs swept under my eyes. "What have you done to yourself? You selfish, selfish boy. Don’t you understand? You’re all I have. How am I suppose to live without my dear grandson?"
Her own tears fell from her eyes and I stood up, reaching my shaking arms out to her. “I’m sorry.” I cried into her hair. “I’m so sorry.” She nodded, wiping her eyes. “You need help, honey. You need it now. Clint and I can take you. We can go right now, Emmett. Please. If you won’t do this for yourself. Do it for me.”
I bit my lip, nodding slowly. “Alright, Gran.” I whispered. “Alright.”