The air felt constricted. Was it always this hot in this godforsaken place? He was up and out of his seat before his mind registered that he couldn't sit still for this. He never could. Storming to the window, he grabbed the half empty bottle of whatever liquor he could afford. A swig as he wrenched the window open told him this was more than a common occurrence now, the alcohol doing barely more than stinging his throat on the way down to his gut, where it churned, mixed with the nauseating feeling of emptiness.

His gaze drifted to the almost panoramic view of the alley, drowning in filth and the scum of society, and couldn't bring himself to care about any of it. The world could have been brought to ashes around him, and he wouldn't have cared if he was dragged down too. Only that she wouldn't be with him in hell. Oh no. She had a reserved place up there, and he looked to the empty starless night, assuming she would be there, and briefly wondered if she'd be allowed still, with an accompanying chug of booze.

"If there was another way…" His eyes fluttered closed, and he squeezed them shut. He needed a new hobby that didn't involve masochism.

"I just couldn't take this anymore. This… Pain. This… hopelessness. I hope you can forgive me" His grip tightened on the bottle, his knuckles burning white, and knew he was risking another lecture if he needed stitches again. The pain was worth it.

"No one else will understand. Maybe not even you, but I need you to know, you have to know, if there was any other way…" Her voice was echoing in his mind, and the liquor he was attempting to drown his insides with, didn't even deter the excruciating caress of her on his conscience.

"It was ruined before it even started, don't blame yourself. I couldn't stand it if you did" He wanted to snort derisively, but he couldn't manage to bring the sound out. Bring any sound out. His laboured breathing was already unwelcome in the silent misery, permeating his state of mind. How could he not blame himself? He wasn't there on time.

He couldn't remember when he had opened his eyes, but he had found himself glaring murderously at the outside world for continuing as if it was the same. But it would never be the same.

He spun on his heel, his back towards New York, as he swallowed gulp after gulp to drown out the memory of that night.

He remembered leaving a message on her phone from a payphone because he hated the abomination of the cell phone she forced him into. She didn't pick up, but he didn't worry. He was late and she hated being late. Her apartment was dark, but she couldn't always afford her bill, because she wasn't dependant on her parents like him. The silence started the alarms. The broken clocked ticked unevenly.

He burst through rooms before hearing the water. That constant dripping that plagued his mind, awake and unconscious.

Drip. Drip. Drip. His stomach attempted a quick getaway through his mouth and got stuck in his throat. He could barely breathe.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The rest of that night was blurred, except her. She looked… Peaceful. But he knew she wasn't. He knew it was excruciating, unbearable. But now. Now, she was fine. And he was left here. Alone. The image of her … like that carved itself into his mind. The bottle is empty. A scream followed the bottles journey to the wall opposite him. A baby somewhere started crying. His clenched fist slammed into the wall next to him until it bled. Her agonised whisper sounded in the room, in his head.

"I want to say I'm sorry for what I'll do, but I'm not. I know it hurts. Just know that you were my light. I know what this will do to you." But it wasn't enough, and he entire being overflowed with disgust. Disgust at her. At him. At her goddamn parents who couldn't even act tortured enough as they buried their daughter. Disgust at the world for not being as effected as he was. The sun began to blare into his filthy apartment, and her voice turned into a whisper.

"I couldn't keep going. You have to know. I tried. I did. You helped, oh lord, you helped. But it wasn't you. It was him. It was them. It was everything. I just couldn't do it anymore."

The paper was bound in his clenched fist, as he was bound in this hell. The streets were alive, and she was only a faint murmur, surrounding him for that brief moment.

"I'm sorry…"

A/N Hey, this is shit and I am a horrible human being. I know. Sorry.

This was my first attempt at coursework. I received a D. Lovely. It is pretty shit, granted but owch nonetheless. I thought I'd share my failure with you. Give you ammo to abuse – that is, if anyone is reading this shit – as is your right, if you are a regular. Or you just don't like the piece. Feel free. I am quite looking forward to my first 'flame'. I'm sure it will be an invigorating experience. Until I can once again be fucked to upload.