Without a second thought the boy picked up the knife and held it firmly in his hand, closed his eyes, held it in front of himself for a few seconds, took a deep breath then quickly attempted to thrust it into his chest.
He thought he had finally done it, there was nothing stopping him from going through with it, yet something was wrong. He didn’t feel the pain he thought he would feel, why was he still able to think and breath and feel his heart beating if he was dead. There was no mistake, the knife wouldn't move forward so he must of hit something, what else besides his chest.
He opened his eyes to see what had happened, what was keeping him from going through with it, only to see that the knife had stopped an inch in front of his chest. He couldn't move the knife any closer to his chest no matter how hard he tried. It was like there was an impenetrable barrier around his body preventing him from killing himself.
After trying to thrust the knife a few more times he chucked the knife across the room in frustration. He sat there on his bed both confused and angry, his failures left him motionless and he collapsed onto his bed.
He laid down on his bed, his mind clutter with questions until he remembered his dream. There was now one more thing he could try. He was determined to do it and was about to get up when he heard a noise at his window.