When you thought of Mikey, an image of a happy boy popped into your head. A sweet, silly, mischievous teenager, ready to throw some water balloons and wanting to touch everything. A nice boy.

But certain things are meant to go downhill…

You didn't believe Mikey would ever kill anyone. Maybe injure. But not kill.

And yet, there he was. Standing in the scorching sun, surrounded by bodies laying on the ground, blood on his face and nunchucks.

His white eyes, empty from adrenaline, looked at nothing. Slowly blinking with exhaustion. He didn't mean to go this far. How would he look at his family now?

Without a word, he dropped his weapon, stumbling towards you. His leg was broken.