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?
12/4/04