He shifted where he stood, the bottom of his cane scraping against the pebbles of the gravel below his feet. He was stood in a niche in the wall, accessible from above ground by a rickety old staircase he’d nearly fallen down climbing. The sound of rushing water filled his ears, broken up only by the occasional sound of chatter up above the old river, the people crossing the bridge who never once looked down at what exactly they were crossing. Very few people came here, they wouldn’t find him for a while. Would his body be rotting? Would that be too cruel a sight to subject his loved ones to? But he’d never wanted to make a spectacle of his death. The issue was, it is very hard to die quietly, with no consequence.

He started counting his breaths, if only to take his mind off of the impending decision he’d have to make.

One.

Was it not better than watching himself slowly die, becoming more and more reliant on those around him to keep him alive, then to end it now?

Two.

But either way, he didn’t particularly want to die. Sure, he did in the sense that he’d rather die this way than the alternative, but—

Three.

—he was young. But he supposed that didn’t matter. Not for him. His fate was sealed no matter what he chose to do now.

Fou—

“Am I interrupting?” a voice said behind him, making him startle.