Staring up and wondering about what would lay beyond the morning transforming sky was something Devit had subconsciously been getting used to. Now he stood on top of his world, the building that had caged him for all his life , his feet and legs holding his bodying from the portal to death. The euphoric drug was winding down, thinning itself and dissolving but sucking all of Devit's life force. Dizziness made his pupils seem to dance and weakness was wearing away his ability to stand without the need to fumble. The white dress shirt that he wore under his suit wet with a splatter of blood chilled his Began to watch the street below him, he'd have to time this just right, if he wished to not hurt another soul.

-Introduction-

Devit knew what he was doing was wrong, but no job other than this one could cover his Mom's medicine. For most of his adolescent life. In the back of his skull Devit would pretend to be Freud, was it that depression ran in the family? Was it that where he lived that caused the depression? Or did the universe hated him? He figured it was the universe. Sure anyone or anything living in poverty would have depression. But on the other hand even the wealthiest of his distant relatives were caught putting bullets in their brains. It seemed for every positive it would soon attract a negative. Get good grades in school, find out that you can't eat that week because Mom spent all her money on cigarettes and booze. Get a job, lose it because your abusive father breaks your arm. Fall in love with the sweetest girl in your whole world, find out she's cheating whore and everything you you loved about her was a complete lie. Graduate high school only to find out later that night your twin brother was hit by a car, and will be in a coma probably for the rest of his life. Being bitter wasn't something Devit wanted, the universe just seemed to force it upon him. But there was one person who could faze though the universe's doomsday digits whenever Devit had a bad day. His birth name long forgotten by everyone except the government, who still believes that he is dead.

A drug dealer called by his clients as Doctor Feelgood, and by personal friends as Twig. In the apartment complex that Devit grew up in, Twig lived only two units away. How they first met is still to the two of them is completely unknown. The earliest memory Devit could ever recall of the fair haired, gaunt man was of one three years ago around his sixteenth birthday, the first time he had ever experienced the feeling of getting high off cannabis. All of Devit's problem; Mom, Dad, life itself, melted away, letting his external and internal suffering to leave his body. Time weaved a friendship between the dealer and the stoner, and Devit was later employed by Twig as what most of his clients put it as to deliver what the doctor prescribed. But when Free cannabis began to water itself down and a wallet filled with criminal cash was all Devit had and knew, his bad habit evolved from smoking to swallowing pills, spending whatever amount of cash on an assortment of unprescribed medication. The year afterwards, the incidence between his brother, Jasdero and the drunk driver had only fueled Devit to take more pills. While sitting against his bedroom wall at home or slothing on Twig's couch as high as the stars in the sky, Devit would wonder if the universe hated him. Is it that his mother made the driver pay to keep Jasdero alive because she couldn't cope if her son was truly dead? Or was it that the universe was just a sadist still striving to torment Devit?

I'm not the person who this account belongs to, I was too embarrassed to post this to my own account. I'm scared that if I post it I will lose jobs, friends ,and family members, due to its nature. I'm extremely thankful to the person who is letting me use their account.

Thank you, for letting me express myself, when I can't do it myself.