Feliciano had dropped Enzo off a daycare and walked into the house, hurt was all he felt. His head pounded, so many things that had happened. This would be it. He wrote a note and left it on the table in the dinning room and walked down the hall to the studio. He thought of all the girls who had abused him. He thought of his parents. He thought of how he never left the city and never would, he stood in the middle of the room thinking of everything painful that has happened to him. He walked over to the drawer on the side of the room and opened it and pulled out a pistol. He sighed, this was the only way he would make sure he died. He went up the stairs to the roof, he was in his work clothes, the ones he would want to die in. He stood on the ledge facing backwards and put the gun in his mouth. He was about to jump off and take the bullet when his name was yelled for and someone ran up to the roof.
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