Christopher Perry Halliwell sat atop the Golden Gate Bridge. It was midnight on a chilly February morning. The temperature was at least 10 below freezing and Chris was wearing only a light jacket over his t-shirt. But he didn't care, he couldn't feel the cold. He couldn't feel anything, anymore. He was completely numb, inside and out.

A tear slipped down his cheek and immediately froze as he thought about the events of the past few days. He brushed the salty icy off his frozen cheek and sighed a puff of white breath.

He couldn't truly believe that she was gone. He was nothing without her. He couldn't live without her, and yet he was forced to by some cruel twist of fate. Her death had sent him spiraling downward on a path he could never return.

I tried to kill the pain
but only brought more
I lay dying
and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming
am I too lost to be saved
am I too lost?

Chris honestly didn't even recognize himself anymore. Some of the things he had done these last few days since her death, he couldn't even fathom having done them if she had lived. The past five days he had practically lived in the underworld, vanquishing demons and attempting to relieve his grief by inflicting pain. But he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't take the pain.

My God my tourniquet
return to me salvation
my God my tourniquet
return to me salvation

And it was with this revelation that he found himself where he was, sitting on the Bridge in this cold weather. Images and memories of his beloved kept flashing threw his head. It was driving him insane.

Do you remember me
lost for so long
will you be on the other side
or will you forget me
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming
am I too lost to be saved
am I too lost?

He missed her, god, he missed her so much. He couldn't take this. He couldn't sit here thinking about her, remembering her and knowing that he would be forever without her. He couldn't live like this.

Chris suddenly disappeared in a swirl of white and blue orbs. He reappeared in the bathroom of his apartment. In the heat of the room he warmed up almost instantly. Tears began to pour from his eyes as he violently turned the hot water on in the tub.

He rummaged around in the drawer and pulled out a few black cinnamon candles. He placed them around the white in the shape of a pentagram. Going back through the drawer he pulled out a lighter and set the wicks aflame, turning off the bathroom light as he did.

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation
Return to me salvation

I want to die

He turned the water in the tub off as it had reached almost the top. Chris removed his clothing, all but his boxers and slowly lowered himself into the tub. More tears slipped down his face as he raised the second object that he had removed from the drawer.

The silver of the razor blade glittered in the candlelight, looking a lot more innocent than it truly was. Bracing himself for the pain, he brought the razor blade down and gasped as it tore into the flesh of his wrists.

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation

The more blood that flowed freely from his wounded wrists, the weaker he became. And the weaker he became the more his guard went down and he began to truly remember her, think about her. His last conscious thought was that her hoped she could forgive him for this. His beloved, Elizabeth.

My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for deliverance
Will I be denied Christ? Christ?
Tourniquet
My suicide

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but if anyone wants me to continue I have some ideas. Just review and let me know.