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Summary
Till turns his crazed grin and both middle fingers up for the cameras, then he throws himself off the suspended stage headfirst. The momentum rips clear of the cords in his neck, blood streaming behind him from his open wounds. Behind his eyelids are flashes of his life: long pink hair, bruises down to bone, and one night with the sky streaked bright, running hand in hand.
On the way down he thinks, in the split second before his neck snaps against the hard metal floor, that if he had the chance, he’d keep running next time.
~~
Or, Till tries again (and again and ag- )