He listens, eyes closed, to their voices tail off into silence as his neck cracks. It’s an odd sound and one he’s heard before, but never from the inside. He doesn’t think his neck is really broken; his legs are twitching nicely and he allows his fingers one last spasmodic curl before going limp, but the snap was convincing.
He’s never been one for thinking deeply – guilt is straightforward as emotions go – but as he hangs, many feet above the lobby floor, he wonders who will come back first to cut him down; the weakest of them, or the strongest?
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