Six days a week, I get up at 4:30 a.m. If I’m lucky, I reach home by 7 p.m.

I eat. I study. I sleep. And then I do it all over again.

None of the other interns seem to be burning out as much as I am. Gabe even has enough time to help out his dad, a senior attending physician at Hill Crest Hospital.

No one said medical school and medical internship were going to be easy. But I had no idea just how tough it is until I began to experience it myself.

I try to act like one of the other guys, but I think they can tell I’m different. They can see how much I’m struggling.

I don’t care what they think of me. But Jackie… I try my best to shield her from the darkness that shrouds me, except that shield is cracking. I can see the fault lines.

All those times I wear a blank expression on happy occasions. Or the times I fail to reply to her text messages.

She’s out with Gabe now. They’re watching the fireworks at the opening celebration of the big art gallery downtown.

They wanted me to come with them, but I said I had some work to do. Jackie’s sixteen now, so she’s old enough to go places on her own.

Despite Mom and Dad’s neglect, she’s grown up with a good head on her shoulders.

She gets along well with people around her, even those older than her, like Gabe and a handful of my other friends. She’s pretty mature for her age, so I’m not surprised to notice that she even has a crush on Gabe. I thought that having grown up together she’d think of him as a brother, but I guess not.

I can trust Gabe to not take advantage of her, though. And I can trust Jackie to take good care of herself.

She’s pretty well-adjusted, fortunately—unlike me.

It looks like I’ve done a pretty good job at helping her escape my fate. Maybe my time on Earth hasn’t been in vain after all.

I was planning on hanging around until she turns eighteen, but I don’t think I can take two more years of this hell.

And to think that once I finish my internship, I can look forward to the same depressing work and the same life-sucking schedule as I have now.

I thought it was going to feel rewarding to help people. But sometimes I feel like a glorified dispenser of medication, like patients see me as just a supplier of service and not a person.

I thought medicine was going to give me a sense of purpose, but all I get are exhaustion and disappointment.

I feel like a failure.

Maybe it’s not that my patients suck, but I have poor bedside manners. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a doctor.

Sometimes I think I should see a professional about these issues, but that would be tantamount to career suicide. The medical licensing board doesn’t like it when a doctor has a history of mental illness. If the news gets out, it could also make it hard for me to find a job or even get insurance.

Besides, it feels weird to need other people to look after me, when it’s usually the other way around.

I weigh the handgun in front of me, transferring the heft from one hand to another.

After a lot of thinking, I’ve decided a gunshot to the head would be the fastest, most painless way to go. It took me a while to come up with a good cover story to borrow Gabe’s gun. I even faked a convincing injury.

It’s now or never.

I don’t think I can last another day.

God, if you’re real and this is wrong… I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.

And Jackie… It breaks my heart to imagine you finding out about my death. I wish I could keep going, even if it’s only for your sake. I know I’m being selfish… but I hope you’ll be able to forgive me some day.

I remove the safety and press the deadly barrel of the gun up against my chin.

It’s cold. Like death.

I’ve always been amazed by how cold dead bodies are. Sometimes, I envy the dead their peace. They just lie there, unaware of the pain that the living endure. Uncaring. Nothing touches them anymore.

My heart rate goes up, and my breathing gets erratic. My (admittedly sick) mind knows it’s time to go, but my body still hangs on out of pure instinct.

I have to win this battle.

My final battle.

My hands are shaking, but I can’t miss. Not when I can feel the cold, hard steel underneath my jaw.

All I have to do is squeeze the trigger.

Just one little squeeze with one finger. That’s all it takes to end this pain.

I scan my bedroom. This is the last thing I’m ever going to see.

But I feel no sadness. I’ve seen enough of this world.

I close my eyes.

On the count of three.

I take a deep breath.

One…

… Two…

… Three.

I pull the trigger.

Bang.