It’s a dark, and dreary night. When a woman comes up to John’s door with a box. She sets the box down and leaves, without a second thought.

Inside said box is you, a little newborn baby boy. That woman? your mother. She wasn’t fit to be a mother and didn’t want you any longer, despite you only being a few months old. You begin to wail, the cold and rain quickly penetrating the flimsy cardboard box you were shoved in, with only a thin blanket and a pacifier to soothe you.