with no one to help him; not a single life, not a single soul.

Mark sunk into the layers of blankets,pillows,and whatnot upon the squish-like mattress of his bed heck,he even had a few plushies. The moonlight glinted along a shard of glass beside a pile of unwashed clothes,and the subtle smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. Mark was curled up in a ball,a gun was lying next to him.he just stared silently at the wall at nothing...