He had seen the news report. The double suicide that had taken place in Manhattan hadn't shaken anyone up. It had shaken him up though. Death had always scared him. The thought of eternal sleep made heavy shivers rattle his spine. He was going down the road to visit his parents. It was Christmas Eve. His sleek, silver car rode smoothly down the white road. He went as slow as he could to avoid having an accident. It was getting hard to see. The last time he had seen his parents they had seemed so happy. His father's business was running smoothly. But everything had fallen apart recently, and his parents needed him. He was almost to his destination when he lost control. The small twitch in his arm had sent his vehicle off course. Pain exploded as he swerved across the tracks. Everything went white and slowly faded to black as he felt his life slipping. He felt the hot, sticky flow of his blood. This hadn't been what he wanted, but at least he still got to see his parents. The small silver razor fell from his trembling hand. It made a soft clicking noise as it hit the floor. Blood poured from his freshly cut arm and wrist. The young adult fell limp onto his bed. Snow fell outside. Not too hard. Not too soft. A perfect Christmas Eve. A night of happiness, joy, and bliss. The boy's radio was still playing, even after he had slipped from this world. "'Tis the season to be jolly. Fa la la la la, la la la la..."