Tears For Angels And Other Such Nonsense
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 3
Good Bye, Friends

The snowstorm came on Sunday. I'd noted the storm well, at first I played the joker, saying nothing would happen. It would just pass over. But, instead, school was out. And I stood there. Awakening from my dreams, I had slowly stepped outside, clutching a particular object.
I had no shoes, nor socks, and I lacked a shirt, exposing all my self-inflicted wounds. The scars had long since healed, but they were all still so visible. I openly allowed Jack Frost to throw his hellish winds and snow at me. They did not matter, not to me. I perched myself down, and spat into the untouched snow, creating is roughly oval-shaped mark with two splattered circles beside it.
In a way, this was beautiful. Just beautiful. But in another way, it was tragic. Tragic and very dark. The winds whipped at my back and my nose, my body beginning to shake from lack of heat. But I just stared down and clenched my hand tighter and tighter.
A single drop of blood fell onto the ground. I unclenched my hand. The bloodied and old razorblades fell into the snow, cleaving and scarring the white haven. I sighed and looked at my hand, muttered some old words from a particularly sad song I liked, and slowly stood. The snow out here was up to my shins. I was in pajamas and walking without a shirt.
Slowly I sank to my knees, then lay face first in the snow. I hoped for death. I had wanted to die so bad that I ignored my seizure-like spasms as I desperately fought for heat. Slowly, though, I was becoming numb. Just as I felt I could take no more, I stood and walked back inside.
The snow had left minor slashes, but I paid no attention. I turned around and stared out the door a moment to mouth the words: "Good bye . . . Friends."
Then I let the door close.


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