Why have friends? They'll just leave me or hate me or die on me.
Girls. Boys. None of them was safe from that wretched creature.
Why didn't I die? Why did it leave me alive with these memories?
There was the very nice girl and she wanted to play with me. She actually wanted to play with me. Me! Of all people and she chose me.
I was never a popular child. Back then, I guess I can say I was an awkward child. I wonder if that's why people bully me.
Anyway, she saw me sitting in the corner, staring. I didn't have any friends to play with, so I just retreated into my mind. She came up to me and asked if I wanted to play with her and her friends. I accepted her request, and she help me gain some friends. I was so happy and thankful for that.
It wasn't until a few months later that she died. She fucking died. Mommy and daddy told me she moved away. They all moved away. I found out the truth. They were killed. Murdered.
She was practically torn to shreds. They were practically torn to shreds.
They were just children. They didn't deserve that. To be killed like that.
And I didn't even get to thank Hunter for trying to kill that bastard.
It should have just killed me.