Page 4 of Darling Venom
Some health and safety BS.
They’d put a chain around it, but you could climb over easily. Which I did, ascending the stairs in no hurry.
Death could wait a few more minutes.
I’d imagined it so many times, I could almost feel it.
Static silence.
Lights out.
General numbness.
Utter bliss.
When I reached the top, on the last stair, I made a split-second decision and nicked the inside of my wrist over the rusty rails. Blood materialized on cue.
Now I would die with a scar.
My hands were clammy, and I was out of breath as I wiped the deep scarlet over my kilt. I stopped in my tracks when my feet hit the ink-colored shingles.
The roof was slope-ridged. Three chimneys curled skyward, their mouths blackened with ash. New York stretched before me in its morbid glory.
The Hudson. The parks, churches, skyscrapers partly covered by clouds.
City lights danced across the dark horizon.
This city had seen wars and plagues and fires and battles. My death wouldn’t even make it to the news, probably.
I noticed something.
Something I hadn’t expected to see here.
Actually, it was a someone.
Clad in a black hoodie and track pants, he sat on the edge of the roof, dangling his feet, his back to me.
His shoulders hunched dejectedly, he peered down, ready to jump.
He leaned forward, one inch eating the other.
Slow.
Determined.
Steady.
It was a knee-jerk reaction, the decision to stop him. Like flinching when someone threw something in your face.
“Don’t!” I barked out.
The figure froze.
I didn’t dare to blink, too stressed he’d be gone when I opened my eyes.
For the first time since The Night Of, I didn’t feel like a complete piece of shit.
I bet they’ll ask why.
