Singe peered over the edge of the building top, staring at the mass of people below. Flashbacks of that white room with its crimson stained, padded walls shot through his mind once again. He sighed from relief, and positioned his hands together in front of his face as if he were going to pray. His dark eyes closed, while his mouth opened to several different sounds, none known to the english language. He heard a police officer open the door that had led him to the roof. "Son, will you please come down from there?" The officer yelled. Singe didn't reply. "Will you comprimise?" The older man yelled again. Singe reached his right hand into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. He began to run the blade down his left arm, seeming to write with the cuts. He soon formed the word "Misfracture" in big letters down the vulnerable side of his arm, continuing into his palm for the last few letters. The blood ran quickly from the fresh wounds, sliding down his fingers and dripping down to the street below. He then pulled out what was a different form of a urn, and pulled the lid off to reveal gray ash of a burned body. On the urn was no name, age, gender, or even date of death. "What are you doing, son?" The officer asked again, stepping closer to Singe. Singe's head whipped around. "Do NOT inturrupt me." He said, pointing the knife at the officer's throat. The officer stepped back and nodded, however saying, "Just don't jump. Ok? We can help you." Singe narrowed his eyes, as yet another flashback of the persistent doctors staring at him in that white room flew through his blurred vision. He reached his right hand into the urn, and pulled out a handful of the ashy, charred flesh. He dropped it over the edge of the building, watching the wonderous crowd move back in disgust. The fluffy powder spread into a wide circle as it hit the ground. It then mixed with the blood that had previously fallen, and turned a pale pink. Dropping the urn and letting it bust on the concrete of the building, Singe aligned his feet with the edge of the building as the officer continued to watch him intently. "Son... what are you doing?" He asked yet again. Singe's dark, sinned eyes glanced back at the man. The next thing the young boy knew, was a bright blur of windows, and then a mass of darkness surrounded with a light, pale pink.