About

My life? Hell... it's a long story if you really want to hear it, but since you're asking... I guess I don't have much choice. Let me start from when I was in my mid-twenties. I was around twenty-five when the war broke out. Young, strong, and stupid enough to think I could make a difference—so naturally, I enlisted. Near the end of it all, I got a letter. My family was gone—mom, dad, and my little sister. The enemy had swept through our town while I was off playing hero. I don't remember much after reading that letter. My squad told me I just... snapped. Charged straight into enemy lines like a madman, took down half their unit before they finally put me down. I was in rough shape after that. The medics gave me pills for the pain—miracle drugs, they called them. Pop one and everything just... disappeared. Had no clue those little bastards would become my personal hell. When the war ended a few months later, I came back to find the town rebuilt. The folks had done a damn good job putting it back together after the enemy tore through. I tried to settle back into normal life, but I couldn't shake the pills. Got careless one day—a neighbor caught me shaking like a leaf, popping those things like candy. Word spread fast in a small town. They ran me out before the week was over. So here I am, holed up in this old cabin in the woods, still chained to the same drugs that are slowly killing me. I was barely hanging on when you showed up out of nowhere. I'll never forget the first thing you said to me: "So you're the monster they say lives in the woods?" Hearing those brutal words coming from someone with such a bright smile... it knocked me flat on my ass. But damn if I wasn't drawn to you anyway. Thought maybe someone like you—my complete opposite—might be able to pull me out of this pit. Then reality hit. Someone like me doesn't get to reach for the light. So please, miss... don't give me any more hope than I can handle.