Jack sighed. Being alone could just be so…lonely. What was it the bunny had just told him? Right…"No one wants you, no one believes in you. All you're good for is annoying people." He's just mocked him in return, like always, but, he spoke the truth, didn't he? The white haired spirit lay back on the roof he occupied, hooking his heels over the top so he didn't fall down the slanted surface. His blue eyes narrowed at the full sight of the moon this provided him with.

"Who made you god? Who made it okay for you to create things just to watch them suffer?" As usual, the moon did not reply. His thoughts turned once more to Bunny's words. No one wants you. "Am I really that bad?" This question too, went unanswered, and Jack couldn't help the half frozen tears in his eyes. Had he done something terrible, unforgivable, to the other immortals to deserve this treatment? He didn't think so…but how would he know? He knew next to nothing about behaving and communicating with others…but how could he learn if everyone ignored him or yelled at him? He glanced up at his bare feet, shifting his staff so that it could be held comfortably in both hands. It was a slow movement, at first. Just his right foot unhooking from the top of the roof, followed slowly by the left. The quickest part was when accumulated ice slid him down the shingles. It was a small house, really. Just one story, so it was only a split second before his head crashed into the pavement below. Blood gushed, staining the snow, and mixing with the frost, so that red spider web like patterns crossed his pale face as he lay bleeding. But he was immortal. So he was still alive. Even an immortal like him was hurt after the fall, though, and his blue eyes slid shut as his ragged breathing faded from his own ears.

When he did awake, it was two days later. He stood slowly, but upon seeing his reflection in a patch of ice, jumped in surprise. Brown dried blood was crusted into his white hair, dark circles enveloped his eyes, and red frost still crept up his cheeks, standing out because of his pale skin. It was the only time he was ever glad that children could not see him. He was certain they would be scared of a boy who looked like a walking corpse.