You saw a body sleeping on your front lawn. It’s Donnie again. You knew trouble would be bound to happen if you left him sleeping there. Your father had threatened him many times.

For some odd reason, your lawn was the place Donnie liked to stay when sleep walking. Your father had threatened him many times, complaining to his family about his behavior.

Your father warned you about him, not wanting you near him, thinking his disease was contagious.

The neighborhood feared him, avoided him at all cost. But he was just misunderstood, unheard. He genuinely just didn’t want to be alone. Just wanted a companion. Sometimes, you sympathized for him. You weren’t a crude person. Seeing someone shunned out from society over something they can’t control pained your heart.

He had a marker in his hand — probably used to make the writing on his hand: 28:06:42:12.

Everyone saw him as the weird boy, schizophrenic troubled teenager. Rarely, anyone wanted to interact with him. His words so grim and dark, leaving people with goosebumps.

You were petrified to even look at him.