As I thought, it was a long way down.

I scratched my head in dismay as I stood at the edge of a rooftop looking straight down over the railing, a familiar bitter feeling settling in my chest while I quietly observed the ant sized people walking the streets. I had so much spite to give and so many people to give it to. The hate was the sole companion keeping me distracted enough to not look at myself. As they say, those that look at others too much, never truly see themselves.

Everybody has their place, their shit to deal with. There is no room for me among them, I belong to the invisible and the forgotten. A castaway amongst my own people. No man’s an island, right? Heh.

Halting my inner monologue, I lie down on the concrete roof and look up instead. The sky is beautiful and clear, white clouds flowing with the currents of wind. The winter sun was hidden behind them. A chill went through my bones but I shook it off, it was usual for this time of the year.

Furrowing my brow I let out a long, tired sigh. What a life, a squatter with nothing to his name except the filthy cot waiting for him back at the warehouse. Home I suppose. A 28 year old man looking like he’s 40. I rubbed my face, feeling the messy beard and rough skin. I don’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror or talked to anyone for that matter. Even the other bums avoid me.

Is this even living? Or surviving? Maybe it’s just a human thing. I cling to life like a fish to a hook. I would have cried if that well hadn’t dried up long ago. My life has been living hell since the day I was born. A curse born upon my whore of a mother. I praise the day she killed herself. Is that why I hesitate? Would I end up right next to her in Hell if I took just one step of that roof? I’m not afraid of death, I’m scared of what comes after. I’d choose this hell over the one spent with her. Giving a dry laugh, I sat up. No way am I risking that.

As a cheap prostitute, she just went where sex and money took her. I never found out who my father was. Whoever he might have been, she had always cursed him for making her give birth to me. An illegal immigrant couldn't get an abortion for the risk of being sent back to her country. I never should have been born. Shockingly enough, I was born normal and without STD-s. Then treated like a maggot for it. Nice times. What else could one expect from an alcoholic prostitute.

After I got sick, I was avoided like the plague. Once again the courtesy of my mother. Then again, I was avoided even before I got the wretched disease. Stares would always fly over my clearly visible bruises and bony frame, but no one cared. The courtesy of humanity I suppose. Humanity, heh, the biggest joke in the book.

"Humans are really disgusting..." I mumble bitterly as I recall the gazes of pity and revulsion.

After that whore committed suicide, the shitty, run-down room we lived in was taken by some guy she owed money to. Leaving me homeless. I might have been taken by the social services, had they known I existed. I never even had the privilege of going to school, but I was I survivor. I was smart enough to survive by myself. I would occasionally listen in by the open windows to some classes, fantasizing that I was one of the innocent, gullible fools sitting in the warm confines of classroom benches. My sanctuary was found inside the old city library. The old librarian was kind enough to let me sleep in the maintenance closet over the winter. But I was still grateful for having, at the very least, a place to sleep.

Books became my refuge. She taught me how to read and write. She was the sole person I ever received kindness from. I grew fond of books and reading and helped her with managing the books. With the money I got by working and stealing, I managed to survive, even live a little. She would bring me food occasionally and talk to me. That was the best year of my life, but short lived.

One day, she didn’t show up for work and after I hadn’t seen her for a week or so, I became worried. Feeling the ache at the memory, my hot breath freezing into mist, I hopped to my feet and sat at the edge of the building, my legs hanging down through the rusty rails. She died. Old age got to her and her heart gave out. I learned it from the men who kicked me out of the library. Every year I leave flowers at her grave and clean it up, but no matter what, I can never repay her.

Unfortunately, even with her in my life, there was no fixing what was broken. I am hateful, and I am very good at holding grudges. Holding a grudge is a hell of a lot easier than having hope, it hurts less. I’m toxic in body and soul, but I honestly have no desire to change.

The episodes where I envision murder and slaughter happen every once in a while. At first it disturbed me, but as time passed, it became my comfort. The bloody visions soothed my fucked up soul. I began wanting to do it, to take a life. Still considering it. Jail wouldn’t be the worst place to be. Prostitutes would be a good option to kill, not many would miss them.

Do I have serious mommy issues? Most likely. I can’t tell.

With a grunt, I stand up and stretch. Feeling a painful ache in my joints, I rub my wrists and scratch the rash on my belly. Shivering, I walk back to the roof door and begin my descent down the stairs. I don’t use elevators. Small, enclosed spaces make it hard for me to breathe. Slowly walking down, I return to my thoughts once more.

I wish, at least, that I had had a chance to become a dignified human being, but fate's a bitch. The second I got sick was when my future ended. Perhaps, if I had had a supportive family, it might have been different.

Now, I am what I have always been labeled, a true pest of society. I avoid thinking about what could have been. I have no expectations of anything or anyone. I’m just cruising through life like a ghost, too stubborn to change and too cowardly to take my life.

My stomach rumbled. Damn, when did I eat last? Yesterday, I think. Looking around my pockets as I leave the derelict building, I locate 1, 34 dollars in coins and sigh.

Walking along the dirty alleys, I head to the cheapest place I know. I skillfully avoided people and stopped in front of a small convenience store. The open sign glared at my face and nervousness hit me. This always happens in public, it’s like the walls have their eyes pinned on me, goading and mocking. Shaking it off, I walk in. The bell chime sounds as I look around. The clerk didn’t even bother to look up from his phone. I made a beeline for the fridges, and had to narrow my eyes at the prices. I couldn’t see well, must have needed glasses. I grabbed the cheapest sandwich for a $1, 20.

Spinning on my heel, I nearly bumped into a little girl staring up at me with wide eyes, “Anne? Did you find the sour cream?” A female voice called from the other side of the aisles. The girls eyes were clear and blue, her brown hair braided with a bunny accessory. She wore a blue skirt and beige coat, her T-shirt had a cartoon character on it. Must have been around 10 years old.

She stared at me curiously before picking around her pockets. Furrowing my brow, I looked for a way to get around the kid, but she kind of stood in the way. She suddenly offered me a chocolate, “Here mister, you can have it.”

I gaped at her in shock, not sure what to do. I can’t take candy from a child. Damn it, I’m a bastard, but I refuse to stoop so low. Kids are the only good thing our society has. It’s unfortunate they grow up to be bags of shit like their parents. I waved my hands up and shook my head. Her small brow furrowed, “But you lo- “, she was cut off as a shout drew our attention. A brown haired lady rushed over and grabbed the girl before spinning around, hiding her behind herself. The look of pure rage was directed at me, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Goading candy from my little girl, disgusting. Don’t you dare even look at her you filthy pervert or I’ll call the police!?”

Turning her back, she grabbed her daughters hand and dragged her away.

“Mom he-“

“You be quiet! How many times did I tell you to stay away from strangers!? You are grounded missy!”

Standing shock still, I held my sandwich and almost crushed it in my grip. Filthy pervert. Pervert… I cursed under my breath and met a furious gaze in the reflecting glass of the dairy section. The ugly mockery that was me. I look like something ate me and spit me out. I haven't shaved in months.

So much filth and grime gathered in my hair I couldn’t even recognize the color of it. It was one big, ugly knot. My sunken face had deep shadows hung under my green eyes, murky and bloodshot. A patched up coat hung loosely on my thin frame and my boots were basically falling apart. Luckily, I couldn’t smell myself. Looking away in disgust, I walked to the counter just as the bell chimed again.

A man walked into the store, seeming nervous and twitchy, a hood over his head and hands in his bulging pockets. My heart rate spiked. When you’ve been on the streets as long as I have, you learn to recognize the rot. My eyes darted to the clerk, his nose was almost kissing his phone.

The hooded man stopped in front of the clerk, who mumbled with clear disinterest, "How may I help you?"

A click sounded as a gun was pointed at the clerks face within a second, “How about emptying that register for me?”

The clerk jumped up with shock and held his hands up, “Please don’t shoot… There isn’t much here… just take it and leave me alone….” he stuttered in fear and quickly began emptying the register.

I stayed in the back quietly, not moving a muscle. Just wait until he leaves… you’ll be fine… My eyes fell on the pocket knife on sale. Taking it carefully, I stared at it and licked my chapped lips. I could kill him. If I sneak up on him I could slit his throat. I wouldn’t even be in trouble for it. The desire lit in my chest to kill, my vision slowly turning red.

Before I could do anything, the man turned around and aimed down the third aisle, “Get the fuck out here bitch! Don’t think I can’t see you in the mirror.”

I realized he could see the section where the mother and daughter pair were hiding through the mirror set as an anti-stealing measure.

“Get your asses here before I decide to shoot you in the face!” he was outright panicking now. This man was clearly on something and out of his mind. I have no idea what’s going on, I can barely see from where I’m hiding. There was the sound of steps and crying. The little girl was sobbing while the mother attempted to calm her.

“Shut that little shits mouth or I’ll shut it for her!”

The clerk suddenly took a bat from under the counter and swung at the criminals head with shaky arms. Unfortunately, he was too distressed to hit properly, and hit him in the shoulder instead. It played out in slow motion. The gun aimed at the women and the collision of the bat. I sprung into motion and stabbed the knife into his gut, pulling it up while the gun fired continuously.

Adrenaline made my heart pump and the sensation of his life vanishing made an odd feeling surge in me. There was no time to analyze it since the pain suddenly sprung in my chest and stomach. Glancing down at my blood covered clothes, I realized the bullets that would have gone at the mother and daughter all ended up in my torso. A metallic taste came up as I puked blood. A small grin spread on my face, God help who ever has to clean this up…

This shouldn’t count as suicide, right? I sighed, feeling tired of it all. There's no helping it, I was a dying man after all, and I have a soft spot for kids. I believe they are the sole innocence of the world.

Sirens were wailing outside as my body shut down slowly. It hurt like a bitch. As the last breath left my bloodied lips, I couldn’t help but feel glad I took the bastard with me.