But it hadn’t come, at least not to kill him. The rubble had trapped him and broken his left leg in several places, but nothing irreparable. He had waited, hoping to die, until the world had gone quiet, and then fled in delirious pain. When he had run to Spinner’s End and patched himself up, he was then faced with the tiresome thought of trying to survive as a dead man or a fugitive. He had very seriously considered simply killing himself. 