S.S.T.

[Kane the Opossum]

I get depressed sometimes. So I need to vent.

[Kane the Opossum]

The depression. It burned the numbness inside him. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt... Worthless. Useless. Broken. That and more, the opossum felt. He walked slowly and solemnly. He'd left a note in his room, for whoever should find it. 'I'm so sorry... You have no idea, how sorry I am... For everything. It wasn't anyone's fault but my own. Don't blame yourselves... Just... Remember the good times, please...?' He then signed it on the bottom, a shitty sketch of the Pink Floyd 'Hammer' logo below. He pressed the button to the elevator, living in an apartment. Downtown. Stepping out of the elevator, the boringly clad marsupial made his way to the stairs, starting upwards. His tail dragged the ground behind him, loose fitting jeans on his legs, black t-shirt on his torso. Opening the door, he shivered slightly, at the chill from the wind atop the building. He started toward the far edge, hearing the city sounds down below, and all around him. Wasn't the tallest building, sure... But, it did the job. His eyes flickered about somewhat, he stopping, leaning up and forward, mismatched gaze looking to the streets below. He wasn't afraid of heights, but they didn't make him particularly comfortable either. He gulped, and closed his eyes. His ears swiveled as he moved forward, nearly tripping over the very edge of the building. He stopped. He thought. He hurt. Loser. Unstable. Hopeless... More words echoed in his mind, and he stepped up onto the small ledge. Eyes still closed, he extended his hands to either side, even as he heard sudden yells from below... It seemed he'd been noticed. He ignored them, and leaned forward. It was like a roller coaster, with no coaster... The feeling as he fell was sickening, dizzying. His eyes opened, as he felt the wind through his fur, tail dragging behind him like a flag. Time seemed to slow down as he stared at the pavement below, a few cops driving up on the scene, but too late. He let the sensations flood through him, from his ears filled with wind, it dragging along his tail, giving it a chill. Or the brushing through his fur as he fell, and the flapping ofhis loose clothes. The pavement grew closer, tears starting to stream from his mismatched eyes. s**t. Scumbag. Retard. All that and more, flooding through his mind. The pavement looked closer still... He felt like he could count the cracks if he wanted. It seemed to take forever... Just before he reached the bottom, he closed his eyes... "I'm sorry..." His last words, lost to the wind, and then the splatter of his body on the ground, blood splashing those who were to close... And just like that, the fire of his life was extinguished, like a candle in a jar.

[Kane the Opossum]

With a sigh, the marsupial walked into his room, halfheartedly slamming the door shut behind him. Hatred, anger, depressed... Three words to describe the thoughts going through his head.Wearing little more than jeans and a white t-shirt, he dragged himself across the room. Tail dragging on the floor, he made his way to the far corner of the room. He leaned down toward a camouflaged soft-case. Picking up the weighty item, he lay it across his bed, before dragging the zipper from one end to the other. Opening it up, he revealed the dark brown wood of the fine bolt-action rifle that lay within. Setting it on the bed, he leaned the case up against his desk before moving back over to the bed. At which point he picked up the weapon, which had an open bolt, whilst he sat down. Leaning down to the small nightstand by his bed, which was a futon currently folded up into a couch, he opened the cabinet in the stand, pulling out the single bullet that stood there; like a soldier at attention. He stared at the red line between the bullet and jacket for several moments, ear occasionally flicking as he thought. "...I'm sorry... I've failed you too often..." He mumbled to himself, a tear falling, and splashing against the barrel of the Mosin-Nagant. Placing the bullet in the chamber, he slammed the bolt forward and down, locking it in place. The opossum sniffled a bit, as he held the rifle, letting his muzzle meet the weapon's own. Closing his eyes, letting more tears fall from them and mat the fur of his cheeks, his tail looped through the trigger guard. The last sound he made was a slight sniffle, before his tail clenched, and pulled the trigger. In one small movement, one little twitch, a loud bang rang throughout the building, blood-caked bullet punching through the ceiling in less than the blink of an eye, the ceiling and wall stained with his blood. Blood, which poured form his nostrils and mouth, and leaked from the top of his head as he slid down, and off the bed. The bed, which so too would become caked in his blood. And there he slumped, eyes open and glazed with death, the sorrow clear on his face.

[Kane the Opossum]

"brb" ...That was the last message he'd sent her... Tears escaping his eyes every so often, he walked into his room with a slam of the door. At which point he fell to his knees, face slamming into the futon he called a bed, even though he always left it as a couch, and he sobbed violently... He clawed somewhat at his head, clutching and gripping at it while he cried. This went on for any number of minutes, before, snivvling, he pulled himself up and walked drunkenly to the closet. Pulling out a rope, he headed out of the apartment, and upstairs. He had a notepad in his cargo pants, as well as a pen in his t-shirt pocket. Sobbing all the while, he stepped into the elevator, and hit the button. After which he slumped to the floor with the pad in hand. And in hastily written, poor, left-hand writing, he scribbled downa note. 'I'm sorry I've caused you such pain... Inspiration so bleak, that I've caused you. I love you, and you deserve better than me. Please, forgive me... I've caused you too much pain; you deserve someone so far better...' Though the elevator had been stopped for a couple of words worth, he still sat there a few moments, before the door started to close. He tossed his pen at the door, it jamming it, and causing the elevator to open once more. That done, the elevator would be 'out of comission' for abit, or so he hoped. Even so, he left the unsigned note there on the floor. Standing up as he cried, he steped out of the elevator, and onto the roof. He approached the edge, where there was a gargoyle statue, which he sat atop. He could hear the elevator behind him, trying repeatedly to close, only to be stalled by the pen he'd left there. Tying the rope into a noose at one end, he dropped it onto the roof, tying the other end around the gargoyle's neck, in a noose. He then slipped the open end around his neck. He stepped as far as he dared to the end of the gargoyle, tears streaming down his face as he peered over. With most of the rope, instead of a set distance, it would be sure to break his neck, as the noose was originally intended; with thirteen loops for the thirteen steps to the gallows. Or, if not, it'd simply choke him. With a final, silent, 'I'm so sorry,' he stepped off the edge of the statue calmly, and in a moment was a sickening crack as his life ended, his gaze staring out over the city scape blankly, hanging a few floors down from the roof, like some perverse Christmas ornament, and there'd he'd stay until local law enforcement and the fire department would remove his body, anyway...