Jack tried to move, only to feel shooting pains run up and down his chest. He raised his head slightly, but did not have the strength to support it, so let it fall. Cold, muddy water greeted his cheek and mouth as his head landed in a muddy puddle. It had been raining earlier.
He strained his eyes, pieces of wet, black hair falling in front of them to obscure his view, but he would not, could not remove his hands from his stomach. His feet were cold, he could feel his toes becoming numb. 'I might get frost bite.' He thought briefly, his mind wandering to a film he had seen where the main character came down with frost bite. It wasn't pleasant. Small, cold droplets of water landed on the exposed side of his face, the other submerged in the murky puddle. Jack didn't need to raise his eyes upwards to tell that it was raining. The droplets came down harder, faster, almost causing pain as they hit and leaving a cold, stinging sensation where they had landed on the boy's skin.
The cold feeling suddenly became bearable, a warmth spreading through his body, chasing the frost away. 'Please God.' Jack didn't finish the thought, he didn't have to. He knew what he would ask - the ultimate request. A small, strangled laugh choked itself out from deep within Jack. To his own ears, it didn't sound like him, but he concluded that it must be. After all, he had been in the darkened alley for nearly thirty minutes now and no one had come. Not surprising, giving the lateness of the hour. 'Mum'll wonder where I am.' A thought which caused tears to escape from Jack's once bright blue eyes, which were now hooded and tinged with red. 'Please.' The lonely boy called through his mind, once again, to God. It was quite ironic. Jack had never believed in God, or any other 'powerful being'. He had been a strong atheist, and proud. Even now, when he was begging for his life, Jack still didn't believe in God. Yet he needed something, anything, to hold on to. The warmth had reached his toes, but they couldn't feel it. In fact, Jack couldn't feel his toes. 'I can't feel my toes.' He repeated to himself, though not aloud, not sure if he could speak. His throat felt closed and old, as though it hadn't been used in decades. The hot, warm liquid seeped through his fingertips, reminding him of a song by some heavy metal band. His girlfriend's favourite band - he'd forgotten the name. The rain kept coming, pounding upon Jack's fallen form and the surrounding pavement. It created a glossy effect, making the black tarmac seem endless, as though you could fall through into another world. 'Help me. I'll do anything. No more drugs, I'll concentrate at school - I'll become a priest!' Jack's final thought caused a hollow laugh to emit from his throat. He was begging, pleading like a child to someone who didn't exist, someone who wouldn't listen. "Please." Jack spoke aloud. His voice sounded foreign, croaky yet girlish at the same time. The hope in his voice repulsed him. 'No one's going to help you. There is no one.' This particular thought sent him back a couple of years, when he was depressed, entertaining ideas of suicide. Surprisingly, his method of death had been a knife to the stomach also. 'By my own that scum's.' Jack thought bitterly, silent hate for the dark figure who had mugged him building up inside of him. The blood was escaping quickly now and Jack was sure he could hear in rushing out, mingling with the pure water. The noise resounded in his head, causing the young boy to screw up his eyes in an attempt to shut it out.
'I don't want to go.' Jack thought miserably, feeling lumps of something in the liquid. He sighed, his back relaxing from its rigid state, creating a feeling similar to laying down in a warm, comfortable bed after a hard day's work. 'I don't want to.' Was the dark haired boy's final thought, before he went.