Lights flash, outside. Through the gritty window, I hear sirens bleeping.
Up the yellowing walls, and out the reflective glass; but they cannot see inside.
I'm laying on the ground, my head facing up to the ceiling. I'm watching the blood drip from my wrist in the corner of my eye, as it spreads across the floor like poison.
They're calling out my name, frantic; but they cannot see inside.
It's dark, too dark, as the lights dim to a shady grey. The world seems so florescent, but far, far away.
Something in my head pounds hard, so I mumble out a name.
"Life, you fucking asshole," and then, "I've fucking quit the game."