He looked at the road ahead of him. It was at a crossroad and he tapped his finger to his lip, thinking his path over carefully.

Finally, he shrugged and went to the road on the right.

As he walked down on the cement ground, he saw people coming his direction.

"Please sir," A woman cried to him, holding a baby wrapped up in her arms, "Please take my son with you!"

"But-" He began and she cried harder, shoving her child into his grasp.

She ran the way he had come, and he cocked an eyebrow up, bewildered.

He continued on his journey, the road getting narrower, till a young boy passed him and stopped in his way.

"Sir," The boy said, taking the baby and walking on, "You don't need him anymore..."

The man felt a pang of worry and fear, saying to the young boy, "No, I'll keep him..."

"No, you won't." The boy replied and ran away in the opposite direction to him.

The man soon realized that he was growing older. With every step he took, it felt like years.

Finally, he stopped when he reached a tombstone, and looked at it, stillness and quietness coming over him.

There lay his name on the marble stone.

Patrick O Sullivan, Died at age Twenty-four, by suicide.

The man's eyes widened when he saw those words and suddenly the road he was on started to rotate backwards, like an escalator.

He watched as the tombstone departed from his sight. He looked on both sides of the road, seeing scenes from his life. Scenes that had not happened yet.

He began to shout for the people in his life to see him! To feel him and save him from his doom.

He suddenly stumbled backwards, when the road stopped abruptly, and Patrick hit the ground.

At the crossing.

He could still hear it though... a baby wailing.

"Patrick... I'm pregnant." His girlfriend's voice whispered in his ear, "Please wake up, p-please don't leave me!"

He frowned a little in pain as he lay there on the cement road back at the crossing.

He slowly got back up on his feet and stood up straight.

He held his sore arms together and stood there shivering at the crossroad.

He saw the right path lead to a world he wasn't apart of.

And the left... a world he would not know unless he took the path it displayed.

He began to sob, as teardrops ran down his cheeks, and fell to his knees. He suddenly felt a pinch in his arm, and he looked at it, seeing a syringe was pierced into his skin.

"Daddy..." The baby's voice called for him in the darkness of the left path, "Daddy, wake up..."

He finally opened his eyes and saw he was in his bedroom, the lighting dim and gloomy.

He looked to the needle that was pressed into his arm, and pulled it out, squinting at the pain.

He had nearly used up the whole drug, and he lay on his bed... tears hitting his pillow as he wallowed in his pain.

When darkness began to drain his life into a deep sleep, his phone started ringing. He turned over on his side and picked it up, hearing her voice say.

"Patrick... I have to tell you something."

"You're pregnant..." He whispered into the phone, and she gasped.

"How did you know...?"

He lay there listening to her voice, as she went over her worries and concerns.

"Where are you?"

He sighed deeply, responding in heartache, "In hell..."

Living hurt so much... but he had to.

He closed his eyes, and took the left road.

When he awoke again, it was dawn...

The future unknown... but the path had shown.

And he would not walk it...