Warning: This story will contain graphic scènes of a sexual and/or violent nature.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. If I did, Random Shoes wouldn't exist.
His hart was racing and his head was beating, hurting. With every heartbeat came more pain, more chaos. Every fiber of his being in aching, every thought remembering him of what he so desperately wanted to forget
How
could he ever face them again? How would he get out of this mess?
WHY?
Why had he done it in the first place? Why hadn't he stopped?
What
would happen to him if the rest found out what he had done and came
after him?
He
looked around the desk and his eyes stopped at a frame; it held the
half of what was once a photo of the best memory he'd ever had. He
picked up the frame and started smashing his reflection.
Seven
years of bad luck, try a lifetime.
He
knew he had fucked things up, again. Only; there wasn't an easy way
out of this.
No
apology, dinner or magic potion could make the damage he made undone.
He
decided there was only
one way left.
Only one way out.
As he stood on the roof and looked into the abyss before him, his hart slowed down. All the thoughts and emotions that were running through his head, made way for a feeling more powerful than any other: fear.
Every sense in his body was trying to tell him to get away from the edge; he felt the wind pushing him back, he saw the pavement looking filthier than ever, but he decided that the wind would have to make way, and that dirty pavements were the least of his worries.
So he stepped closer, he could feel where the building ended. He looked down and his eyes lingered on the piece of pavement that was directly beneath him.
The place where his worries would be put to rest.