The night was frozen in place.
Cold air pressed down on the empty street, and the only lights were coming from distant streetlamps flickering like dying stars. Above them, the sky was crowded with constellations that were sharp, indifferent, and majestic. The sidewalks stretched on in both directions, abandoned. No one could be seen in the foggy night. The world felt paused, as if it were holding its breath for something terrible to happen.
A boy walked through the silence.
He couldn't have been older than sixteen. A black hoodie hung loosely from his shoulders, worn sports shoes scraping softly against the ground. His steps were slow and heavy, each one carrying the weight of a decision he had already made. His face showed grief and sorrow, with a mask covering half of it. Only his eyes could be seen—lifeless, tired of the cruelty, as if something vital had already left him behind.
This wasn't a walk.
It was a farewell.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
The sound was small, but in the stillness it felt very loud. He stopped. Slowly, he pulled the phone out. The screen lit up his face in a dull white glow.
It was an alarm with a brief note that expressed his destination: The End.
When his eyes saw the words, hesitation crossed his face. Then suddenly, he started smiling, as if he had seen a happy memory.
His thumb hovered for a moment, trembling—not with doubt, but with exhaustion. Then he switched it off.
When he looked up, through the darkness filled with fog, a bridge could be seen—his final destination. It looked like an iron skeleton, the remains of something long and tangled, stretching across the void. The wind whispered through its frame. It had been standing there long before him, and it would stand long after.
He climbed the railing.
The metal felt cold against his hands as he pulled himself over and sat on the edge. His legs dangled freely now. Below him, the city glimmered in the distance. Cars moved like veins of light, beautiful and glittering. Windows of houses glowed warmly. But upon seeing that bliss, his face remained still.
He hadn't come for the view.
Julian White had come to put an end to his suffering.
The wind blew through his hoodie, biting into his skin—and with it came the memory.
The Arizona mountains beneath a sky just like this one.
The hum of a car engine.
His mother laughing beside him, her voice warm, alive.