The cries of a child

She stood atop the railings, her hair dancing to the rhythm of the cold chilly breeze, her eyes cold stared at nothing but everything wondering if she could be saved. But did she want to be saved? Did she need saving? She brought herself forward to feel the burns from those who wanted her to feel nothing but unquenchable pain. "It seems to me you do not like your head firm on your neck" He tolted his neck to look at the short fat man with beads of sweat that caressed his neck. The man's hand still remained wounded around her shoulder.