His breath tightened as he stood before the person he trusted the most. He should have expected his life to end like this. He had to climb and crawl to get as far as he has.

He stumbled back as he watches the face of his lover twist and stale like he sight of what he had done was not as sickening as the person he did it too.

"I'm sorry. You are a weakness I can't afford." He said this has he ripped the knife from his chest. He stumbled as his blood fell on the floor. He cough blood up as he gagged.

In a gargled voice, his last words were "Screw—you, b—-astard." He stumbled back as he plumped from the roof top into the dark streets below.

He knew he would never reach the ground alive. As his vision faded, his last sight was the full moon. The moon that he had seen all his life. It never looked so beautiful as the last light faded from his eyes. His last thought was 'This world sucks!'

There was a thud closely followed by a scream. As his mangle body lie there in the street, people rush around to find the cause of the commotion. They will never know how a young life ended so violently.

At his funeral, they will say how wonderful, kind, and great he was. They would never dare talk about the troubles and darkness he had experienced through his life. After all, who would speak ill of the dead?