A young boy stood on the edge of a skyscraper. The world continued on below, unaware of the turmoil above them. They were never even aware of it when he stood among them. He took a step closer to the edge, now barely on it. He had always been on the edge, at least in his mind. But now he stood, an end to his agony just twenty stories beneath him. At least, he liked to think so. He would survive the fall, just like he survived all the others. He had just been given his life, yet he only wanted to throw it away. But it stuck with, as did his pain. Like they were interwoven. His life was pain, and his pain gave him life, He could not get rid of the pain, and so he would keep living. Yet, as he stood there, something changed. Nothing was different, but it would never be the same. Tears ran down his face. But they were the tears of a wound, a deep red that was not coming from where it should. Soon, blood seeped from between hi lips. It gathered on his jaw, like water on a dam. Then, it spilled forth like a liquid rose blooming. The boy’s eyes faded into black. His pupil changing, glowing red. He stood there, catatonic. He could not feel when his teeth were ejected from his gums, razor sharp canines taking their place. The blood finally stopped pouring, but its mark was left. Streaks of black, left by tainted blood, ran down his cheeks. Lines of darkness streaked down from his mouth, which was now full of sharp, pristine teeth. His eye socket had all faded to black, and at the center lay a red dot, staring into nothing. The boy could finally move again, he reached a leg out, and let himself tip forward. The impact would not kill him, but there was fun in the fall.