“One second, just give me a second! Not yet!”

My words echoed in the empty bathroom. I looked at the boy holding the knife to me. His eyes were wild, and his arms and legs contorted like he had an ocean of anguish.

He stopped and held the knife poised in place. It didn’t flicker or waiver as he pressed it into my flesh.

“You don’t want to do this, do you? What is it you are really looking for, huh? Killing me won’t solve anything.”

The sharp, cold edge pressed harder into my skin. “You’re nothing! You don’t deserve anything else,” he said to me. His face twisted in desperation. His breathing labored, the words coming out in a gasp.

“I know, I know... I can see it in your face. There’s a lot of pain in there. You hurt.”

I breathed out,” I hurt too.” I drew out the “I” to sound more emphatic and convincing. To take time and gather my thoughts.

“But is this really what you want to do? To end a life that hasn’t gone anywhere yet? I have so much I want to do, but I’ve been scared. So afraid. I didn’t want to fail.”

I looked into his eyes. They squinted, tried to see into me, see if I was serious with this. “You don’t do anything but waste space. You aren’t worth anything at all, and all you do is cause pain!” His words came out as a growl.

It wasn’t the first time I had heard words like this. They stung.

“I mean it! I’ll do better. There are things I want to do. PLEASE! Please let me try.” I lowered my eyes and my head fell forward. I whispered, “Please let me try.”

A moment passed. Then another. Sweat dripped down my brow and into my eye.

He pulled the knife back slowly, the flesh marked from how hard it had pressed in left behind; the skin lighter where the edge had pressed into my skin.

“Thank you,” it came out as a sigh. ”This time, I won’t let you down.”

Finally, he put the knife back in his pocket.

I looked back up into the mirror. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for one more chance.”

I pushed away from the sink, pulled my sleeve back down, and walked out of the bathroom and back to class.