#3

He had been awake for days.

Madness was starting to creep into his bones and the night sky beckoned.

Lifting his scarred and abused body from the concrete he stumbled towards the stairwell. Falling against the door, he shoved back his hair, braided in an impenetrable rope down his back. Climbing up the stairs he walked past friends and strangers alike; some getting to know each other too well. The smell of bodies and alcohol cloaking him in a fog, muddling his mind. He needed to see the sky.

The girl was there, where he’d left her, what must have been hours before. Her blood red hair pooled around her head. A mesmerising pool. He realised she was a sign. Leaning over her, he roughly pressed his lips to hers, feeling the chapped skin and exalting in her imperfections.

“Thank you, my dear.” he whispered.

Stepping up onto the ledge, he stretched his arms out to the heavens, breathing in the night itself. He took the first step of the rest of his life.

He’d reached for the sky, and touched the stars.