December 31st
While everyone else spent this festive season with their families, eagerly awaiting the New Year and making new resolutions, a young man in his twenties sat on the roof of a building. The cold wind blew across the empty streets below, silent, only lit by the tired streetlights. In the distance, the laughter and music from the celebrations rose faintly, like a melody from a world he no longer belonged to.
He clutched an empty pack of cheap cigarettes in his hand and stood up slowly. His fingers, numb from the cold, trembled slightly.
— Well... There's no point in staying here any longer. I'm officially broke.
The young man's name was Lassen, an orphan who had spent almost his entire life in foster care. He had never been particularly brilliant, nor terrible—just... average at everything he did. After turning 18, he had been forced to leave the foster home and live on his own. Despite state assistance and renting a small studio, he never really managed to get his life together.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. He remembered his first days as a "free" adult. He had thought freedom would be sweet, that he would finally be the hero of his own story, like the characters in the novels he devoured. But reality had been very different. Freedom came with a price: loneliness, despair, failure.
He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the heavy silence around him. Every breath was a painful reminder of his insignificance.
All he ever wanted was to stay home and read novels. His obsession with reading had gotten him fired from several jobs. He would hide in dark corners to read, unable to resist the call of the stories, the worlds where he could escape. With each firing, he promised himself to do better... but reality always took over.
Today, his landlord had thrown him out after six months of unpaid rent. He could still remember the disdainful look the man had given him that morning.
— You're really a good-for-nothing, kid. If you don't change, you'll end up under a bridge.
Those words echoed in his head, more painful than the cold wind biting through his worn-out clothes.
He looked at the empty streets below. Maybe he could... call someone? But who? He had no one left. He had had "friends" at the foster home, but they had all disappeared, caught up in their own lives. Once, he had thought about calling the social worker, but he had held back. She had done her job. He wasn't her problem anymore.
He thought of the box of books he had left in his studio, the only thing he had ever truly owned. They were probably already thrown in the trash. The thought hurt more than anything else.
At exactly midnight, as fireworks lit up the sky and the New Year began, Lassen glanced one last time at his phone. A bitter smile crossed his lips.
— As expected... Who would wish a Happy New Year to someone like me? I didn't even get the automatic message from the phone company. Hahahaha...
He looked up at the sky, then closed his eyes, murmuring to himself:
— One less burden for this world...
For a moment, he hesitated, memories flooding his mind. He saw the foster home's dormitory, the few friends he had made, the books he had loved so much. A small voice whispered that maybe, somewhere, someone would remember him. But that thought vanished as quickly as it came.
Yet, deep down, another thought persisted, stubborn. What if there was still a chance? A miracle, a reason... But where could he find it? He opened his eyes and stared at the distant lights, searching for a sign, anything. Nothing. The void responded to the void.
With a determined step, he plunged into the void.