"This is the reasoning behind why he snapped, and the explanation of his plans, of course. And, quite possibly, the story of how someone put the pieces of his life together and tried to save him."
This story starts with a perfectly normal young man who led a perfectly normal life. His favorite breakfast was coffee. He was in his last year of art school, not at the top of his class, but somewhere near the top. He wanted to be a comic book artist. He had black hair and hazel eyes and pale skin. He had the girl of his dreams, beside him every step of his life. He could draw and write and act and sing. He was close to his family, and his best friend was his little brother. He had a name too, but that’s irrelevant to the story right now.
And then one day, he snapped. He started carrying a gun with him everywhere he went. He started talking into a small plastic tape recorder in whispers. He tried not to go out during the day, preferring the darkness and hiding places that the night provided. He would look over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure that no one was following him. When he had to go somewhere, he would usually run. He would clear his mind whenever he saw another person so that they couldn’t read his thoughts or guess his plans. Because every second that he was alone, he was planning.
This is not the story of how he snapped. This is the reasoning behind why he snapped, and the explanation of his plans, of course. And, quite possibly, the story of how someone put the pieces of his life together and tried to save him.
A/N: Okay, so here we go. I have more of this written out, but I want to see if people will actually read it first. Warning: chapters can get kind of long, and it gets very violent near the end. This has been floating around in my head for quite a while now. Let me know what you think.