A boy with pitch black hair and nails walked down a pitch black street with nothing but a pitch black cloud infecting his head. Xavier was 16 with no future, nothing in the present, and a burned past.
Dragging his feet down the middle if the pitch black street he wished for a car to put an end to the endless pain the pitch black cloud had created. The constant pressure of sadness, anger, frustration, and guilt was building and seeping out his eyes landing onto the pitch black road dripping into the cracks.
This was his only mark on the world and will be the last.
His life had no point, no significance, all he was doing was wasting space, wasting time, resources and energy. The best thing he could do was leave. He would help himself and the cruel world by doing so.
Headlights coming, coming fast.
Closer and closer they came.
His heart raced as he spread his arms for a direct hit.
Brighter and brighter the lights shined, brighter and brighter his smile.
Though instead of crashing to freedom he crashed into the side of the side of the road with the sound of someones yell ringing through his ears.
"No! Xavier!"
He opened his eyes and saw color.
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Color a short story
Short StoryThis is a short story about a boy named Xavier who gives up. But not quite. !!Trigger warning talks of suicide!!
