The Fatal Urge

Pete walks along the street. The sun is setting and a chill is descending on the world around him. He doesn't feel it though. He is numb. Headlights approach from ahead. Like a wild animal he is caught in their seductive lure. They are willing him to meet them, take them on. He realises that would involve jumping in front of the car and he resists. He continues walking, but takes the first side street, so that he gets off the main road. Further away from temptation.

He reaches home and goes to the kitchen. He's not hungry, but grabs some food anyway. He sees the knives. Notices how they glint. Imagines their sharp edge and how it would feel to have it slicing through his skin. That alive feeling that would come from seeing his red blood flow from his wrists because of something he did. Again he resists.

He heads to his bedroom. His name on the door, as it has been since he and dad put it there on his third birthday. That birthday had come a month after they had moved into this apartment. He'd been so excited that he'd have a staircase to use his slinky on. There was one inside, from the living areas to level with the bedrooms. And then another one, outside the apartment, used by those who scorned the elevator.

He stared out of the large window from his bed. His view was spectacular. His vision, however, was severely inhibited by this numb feeling. He went out onto his balcony, to try and freshen up. The temperature had dropped a few more degrees since he'd got home. Still, the cold air did nothing. Pete didn't notice the dragon breath coming from his mouth. Something else had grabbed his attention. The height. He could look down far below to the streetlights. The tree directly beneath him shook in the wind. A branch curled, creating a smiley face between it and the two neighbouring lamp eyes.

He climbed onto the ledge. Another gust of wind moved the branch again. Now it grimaced. Pete knew it was a reflection of him. The headlights and the glint of the knife had been tempting. But this, this was irresistible. He leapt towards this face that revealed the true him. His dragon breath was not accompanied with wings, nor did he want them. He was never one to soar amongst the clouds.

He didn't let a sound slip from his mouth. He was numb all the way down. Even right up to the thump of his impact, he felt no more alive than he was after it. He skipped pain, going straight from numb to no more. Yet another failed attempt to feel something other than nothing...