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The man sat isolated, lonely, hopeless in the apartment. Eyes staring blankly at the white walls. Two thoughts surfacing through his fogged mind. Could I? Should I? There he was sitting at a unbalanced wooden breakfast table for two thinking what some consider the unthinkable. There is nothing to do. No resolution to this. It won’t ever go away.

The panels of the old wooden floor creaked as he dragged his feet to the bathroom. The rusted sink dripped as he looked in front of him and saw another man staring back at him he did not recognize. The man staring back at him had straight untamed dirty blonde hair that hung from his head to his chin. The eyes on that man were a light blue glazed with fatigue and had deep bags underneath them. The stare alone penetrated him filling him with fear.

Touching his own face gently he noticed the stranger did the same. The other man staring back at him mimicked him. He reached forward as if to embrace the stranger only to press his palm against a cold surface. He realized the man had been his reflection. He jerked his hand back. This can’t be what I have become. The hopelessness of this little reality engulfed him. He was only twenty years old. How could anything so bad happen?

No more tears drenched his once soft cheeks. This was it. He could deal with it no more. In a dazed state he walked out the bathroom leaving the torment of his reflection behind. He made his way ever slowly to the window about ten feet away from the breakfast table that had a day bed under it. He laid there for a moment and took off his dirty sneakers. He felt the left pocket of his army green cargo pants and then pulled out his pocket knife. Holding it firmly he closed his eyes.

The air was musty and with a quick motion he opened the window still holding the pocket knife in his left hand. His mind was a blank. He looked at the room one last time, but even though he was suffering his eyes still managed to land on the unpaid rent bill on the kitchen counter. Shamefully he looked away.

The dim lights of the room and the suffocation of the walls were becoming unbearable. He turned his head to the right trying to find comfort or some form of sleep. He had no lover. He lost his job. Would his friends even bother to try to understand? Go for it! Do it! Every shadow seemed to be screaming those two sentences to him.

One tear fell from his eye. He didn’t care anymore if anyone saw it. Looking straight ahead he saw a cross hanging in front of him on the wall. It was made of cherry wood. Looking at it painfully he let a low moan of agony escape his lips. Why must you taunt me?

He looked away and tightly shut his eyes. This would be it. He lifted the knife watching it cut through the air gracefully. Could I? Should I? He raised his right wrist and without hesitation cut an inch into it. The cold sting of the blade gave him goose bumps, but before he could advance deeper he heard crying. Suddenly, as if someone was pulling the knife out of his hand it was flung to the other side of the room.

The voices that seemed to be tormenting him silenced. Trickles of blood trailed down to his pants as he looked out the window. The wailing was familiar almost as if it was from a past memory or dream. The streets were bare till his eyes came to rest on a young girl who looked nineteen who was sitting on a bench in dirtied clothes. There in a bundle of old newspaper was a new born child in her arms.

The mothers face had smudges and the baby looked to be shivering in the autumn chills of night. His eyes were glued to them. She handled the child with such care and in seeing that the child was cold she took off her ripped up scarf and delicately used it as a second blanket for it. The baby silenced and he saw a gift all in itself. She smiled at her baby the most loving smile he had ever seen.

His tears fell heavier. This mother had nothing except the clothes on her back and the bench she was sitting at and yet she smiled to her child. Lifting her shirt slightly she placed the child to her breast. There was such life and as if she knew all along he was watching she lifted her pale face and moved the tangled brown hair completely away from it revealing green eyes that seemed to look through his soul. Something in him didn’t mind it.

She was shedding the same smile she did to her child to him. This made him feel all the more unworthy to have her look at. Abruptly he felt a warm sensation running down the right side of his pants and as he looked down using almost all his strength to even stop watching the girl he saw what he did not wish to. He saw his blood. He had made a mistake. He put pressure on his wrist in desperation hoping the bleeding would stop. The longing to live was there and as he breathed heavily out of fear he found himself determined to get through this. He only hoped who ever the greater power was would let him live.

Perhaps he was growing to tired or maybe just fainting from the blood he had lost, but either way he began to feel himself fading. His eyes were growing heavier and his vision hazy. Am I dying? He did not see his life flash before his eyes. He only felt a sort of ping of reality.

Using the energy he had left he peered out the window praying almost she was there to look upon him. He looked aimlessly, but there was no sign of the girl ever being there. The bench she was once sitting at was gone. Everything seemed weightless to him and without even realizing it he found himself laying completely down instead of looking out the window.

The air no longer bothered him, but he could not help looking at the cross. Is it to late? He wished he had seen more of that girl before he had attempted this, but one question remained. Would he stay or would he go? It was at then the world went black.