It is night. There is a storm. The rolling crash of thunder comes in a steady double rhythm. The lightning flashes twice each time flooding his room with an electric blue light. The thick rain drops thud loudly against the roof. The water cascades down the narrow streets. He holds his hand. It's bleeding. He looks at his palm, it's cleanly cut right across. It was an accident involving glass. The drops of red blood land on the floor with a dull sound merging together each time on the floor making a bigger stain. He looks at it like he has never seen blood before. It doesn't hurt. Not yet. He starts to wander over to his wall, trailing blood behind him. If he's loosing all this blood he might as well use it. There's nothing to stop it with. In a blinding step he falls to the floor unconscious. Black out.

In minutes to what seems like eternity he wakes up and wishes he would've just stayed like that forever. His head feels light. Doesn't think he can stand up. Good. Now he won't have to face this misery. Just lies there looking at the ceiling like he can see the sky. He sighs and feels another deathwish coming on. Forgetting his hand he stains his other arm with blood. The bleeding isn't so bad anymore. If she was here he would do something about it. But he doesn't have her so what's the point. Maybe now he can bleed to death. Instead of jumping off a rooftop. The rain pours down harder. Thunder roars more often. What a night to die on. Slowly he gets up and makes for bed. He clenches his injured hand into a fist. Fierce burning pain grows from his hand up his arm he could scream. But he doesn't. He holds it in silence. This is the worst physical pain he's ever stumbled upon. But he has gone through worse emotional torture. All he has to do is think of her, that takes his mind off everything else. So he thinks. Soon unconsciousness takes him again.

Heavily he wakes up. The sounds of the street. The sun shining. He feels like throwing something at that sun and shattering it into a million little pieces. It's mocking him. This whole town is. It won't let him have the one thing he needs and wants because not having it is worse than lying in the snow bleeding to death is seventeen different places. It forces him back behind that invisible line. He glances at his hand. It's practically stained red. But it's grown back together. His head feels confusing and not all there. Slowly he pulls himself out of bed. The sight on the floor isn't all that great. And he isn't either.

With no more blood anywhere on him he climbs down. Going for a walk to clear his head. Everything is still wet from last night. But that unbearable sun is taking care of that. The air feels heavy and moist from the pelting rain. He has the same unceasing feeling. Not rushing anywhere he walks not really aware where he's going. He looks straight ahead. Somewhat tormented all he sees is that he's walking towards a fountain. Now he's even more tormented. Sitting on the edge of that fountain is his girl writing down something. She looks up and thinks for a moment before continuing to write. He stops walking. The distance between them is not a short one. He smiles slightly to himself. What he wouldn't give... He turns around and walks back embracing an image of his own making.