He felt fine.

Yes, in the morning he felt fine.

Raymond looked at the morning light and thought, I must be crazy. I should have gone through with it. Now I have to keep going until the next time it happens.

He swallowed. There was a lump in his throat. Then he sat down. He put his face in his hands and yelled.

Immediately, his neighbour banged on the wall and cursed.

"Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you!"

It made him laugh. Kill, huh? Good thing he still wanted to die. Vincent had stopped him, but what did that matter in the long run?

He could try again today, or tomorrow, or the day after. How could he tell anyone, even himself, that he felt any different?

Fuck… just thinking about it…

He took out the package Vincent had given him. It was a brown paper bag. 

Inside were small vials with testosterone cypionate on the label.

Raymond stared at it. He was silent for a long time, and felt as if he had been stunned.

Suddenly, he admired and hated Vincent in equal measure. Vincent looked like he’d never struggled a day in his life, but he must have. 

How had Vincent done it? How had he managed to save himself?

Raymond envied him so much, he could die.

There was nothing for dinner. He only had a little bit of money left. He had no job. He’d stopped showing up one day, and he didn’t think they noticed anyway.

Raymond took what he had and went out to eat. He found that he was hungry, and this time, he could actually taste the food.