I live in a city sorrow built. It's in my honey, it's in my milk.

"Which one's quicker?" I utter at Molly, from across the lab.

"Syringe." She says quietly, focusing on some sort of body tissue under the microscope.

"But pills are easier to take." I sigh. This is harder than I thought.

She looks up from the microscope, at me. She looks pained. "A-are you sure about this?" She mutters. I nod solemnly. I have to pull through with this. I have to. "There's no going back. You'll leave all us behind, you know. Me, John…" She trails off.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I have to." I say, my voice as small as a pin prick.

She shakes her head. "I… I can't let you. I can't." I can see tears threatening in her eyes. "I won't get you the drugs, Mary." She says firmly.

My lip starts to shake. "Fine. If you won't get me the drugs, I'll go another way."

The wind whistles through my hair, making it toss and turn as if it were alive. My feet are on the brink. I look down, to the street below. Nine storeys down. My stomach churns, but I know I need to do this. You can't have stars without space.

I pull out my phone. I guess I really should say goodbye to John. I… I can't speak to him. Just a text will do, won't it? Yes, I've only known him five months. But, that is a bit cruel… A call, I think. One final goodbye to my flatmate. B-but… No. I can't do it. I just can't. Molly can tell him, can't she?

Yes. Mary can tell him, and he'll come up to stop me. I'll just have to leave without him. But I'll wait. Not for long, just long enough to say goodbye.

I step down and sit on the ledge quietly, just where he sat.

After seven painful minutes, the door behind me bursts open. John is panting, his cheeks blazing red. He'd run up the stairs, obviously.

"Mary!" He shouts, and runs to me. I feel so sorry for him. "Don't do this, please."

"You can't have an angel without a devil, John. He died right there. He shot himself. Now I'm all alone."

"He- He was your brother? Oh my god." He knees buckle from shock.

"Yes." I gasp through the sobs.

"I will help you. Please don't do this!"

I step up to the edge. "Mary!" He pleads.

"Goodbye, John."

My feet slip from the edge.

Don't worry; falling's just like flying, only there's a more permanent destination.

I'm falling, falling to the streets below. It's true what they say; your life truly does flash before your eyes in your dying moments. I see him. His devilish smile; his Irish twang; his deep, black eyes; his slick, black hair. I'm doing this for him. My beautiful twin brother. I see that meeting, his last moments. That afternoon on the roof, playing with the Consulting Detective.

You can't have an angel without a devil. That's why I don't plan on it.

My body collapses as the fall ends. My mind goes black. I can hear them all, the screams, the shouts, the concerned voices. I just can't block them out.

Minutes go past. I count my fluttering heartbeats.

"Let me through!" John shouts, after three hundred and fifty-four heartbeats. "I'm a doctor…" He's sobbing too. He grabs my wrists, and feels my pulse. Dull, but still there. His tears splash on my broken arms. He pulls me from some sort of container. He takes just to holding me, wishing me well, praying for help.

We just stay there, with only each other, until the stretcher arrives.

Bright lights, antiseptic smells, anaesthetic, morphine. It's overwhelming. My eyes open, to see him by my side. He has my hand. He's tired. So, so tired. I get up, but my body's still there.

I look down towards my hands. They're translucent. It makes me jump, but it makes sense. My body's dead. Well, very close to it. Its breathing murmurs and its heart is fluttering, as soft as the wing beat of a butterfly.

She looks so dead, so broken. Her chest is rising and falling gently, barely taking even a whisper of a breath. Tubes spider from her arms, forcing blood and liquid into her veins. Her head is trapped in a block of plastic. Her back's strapped to a board. She looks frail.

The door moves slightly, and in walks my best friend. She's been crying, I think to myself. Her makeup has run. Poor, poor Molly. She's such a sweet girl; how could I break her like this? She tiptoes into the room, and places her tiny hand onto John's shoulder. He looks up. It's the first time he's torn his eyes away from my body. They just stay there like that for a while, before Molly works up the courage to shatter the silence.

"You'll be okay." She whispers, looking deeply into John's broken eyes. John just shakes his head slightly, the beeping of the heart monitor echoing through the sorrow. "Yes you will. She will pull through. Her heart is still beating."
"B-but for how long?" John mutters. First time he's spoken since…

Molly puts her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He just weeps into her shoulder, just like I used to. Poor John. I've hurt him so bad. And… And it's all my fault.

I'm a monster.

"What d'ya think of it, then?" That familiar Irish tone echoes behind me.

"It…. It's…" I can't say anything. My voice had disappeared. He saunters towards me, my back to him. His hands slip around my waist, and grasp my stomach, as much as he can anyway. It's like I'm a ghost. His midnight, fluffy wings curl around us.

"Nice of you to visit." He mutters into my neck.

"G…Get off me…" I whisper, trying to stand up. Feathers press against my back. Does, does this mean-?

I stretch. White, feathery wings burst me from his grasp. My head goes back, eyes wide shut. This is where he belongs, where he wants to stay. But not me. Brother flies backwards, his pitch-black wings manically flapping to try and steady him.

I walk forward slowly, and put my hand on John's shaking shoulder. "I… I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. I…" My forehead rests against shoulder.

"Never again."