All he wants is an end. An escape. He is alone. He is unwanted and unheard. He feels unseen, how can he keep living like this he wonders. The air is full of a thick smoke and all he can smell is blood. Red sticky blood gushes from the cut on his wrists. It sprays the room in a colorful shower of bright red dots. He sits there unable to move. Almost as if he is frozen in fear. Or is it regret? The cut begins to burn and it now sent blood flying into the boys mouth. He tasted it and its tangy yet sweet flavor is the last thing he will ever taste. He hears a pounding on the door. He hears a shout. A scream. "It's ok mama." He says in a quiet voice. "It'll all be over soon." The one still pounding on the door sobs. And calls out to her son. The sounds begin to grow faint. All that he can hear now is the door vibrating as if in slow motion. Loud bangs of flesh against wood. He slides to the floor. All sound now gone. His bleeding wrists aren't spraying anymore but are begining to slowly trickle down his arm and to the floor. His eyes begin to blur, a mixture of tears fill his eyes and he feels the tears slide down his face but he can't cry. He can't scream. He can't call out. All has been silenced. And in a last effort of using all the strength in his body. He says, "I am sorry." And he lays on the floor, motionless. His wrists are no longer bleeding, his ears are no longer hearing, and his eyes are no longer seeing. But a last tear trickles down his face, in an effort to leave the lifeless boy forever.
