Standing on the roof of a 12 story building, a boy in his teens standing 5 foot 10 dressed in black walks up to the edge of the building, his coat flapping in the wind. Dark clouds in the sky move in over the city as the sun is getting close to setting in the distance, the clouds won't cover the sky till it sets. His eyes look down on the city, he stands there for a few seconds with not a single sign of regret on his face. He slowly leans forward keeping his eye from looking at the ground until he starts too fall. He still looked determined even as he fell. Slowly he closed his eyes and suddenly it all went black.
He wakes up in his room, the shock woke him up yet he was disappointed that it was all a dream, it felt so real that he really though he was dead for a moment. He sits up in his bed, his short brown hair a mess, realizing that his hand held a knife that has been jammed into his chest and blood was dripping everywhere all over his bed. It took only a second to realize that this wasn't actually what happened and like a mirage it went away. The knife he was holding wasn't really jammed into his chest but in his hand beside him on the bed. No matter how shocked he was deep inside he wished that he did stab himself, he wished to be dead.
He released his grip on the knife and took a moment to stair down at it. He's been hiding this kitchen knife near his bed for a long time, he thought that maybe it was time to use it, to get it over with.