Like all things, this was the beginning.

He was off to endeavour into the pits of hell. Grabbing his boots just underneath the large pile of mess in his room where he spent most of his time blubbering about how much life sucked for him. In a way, the mess in the room was like the mess in his head, something that never went away; something he had no control over. Slipping on his boots and grabbing his large navy blue coat, he walked towards the door, the light illuminating through the glass. Lost in thought, he began to turn the handle of the door, barely touching the cold steel knob. He opened the door, all that was seen was fire. The world that was once his own was destroyed. He looked up and stared at the cloudless sky, taking each step cautiously not wanting to go near another life form.
He began to pick up pace. Glancing at his watch he could not help but mumble to himself “Ten past two.” Talking to himself had become more and more of a habit.

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