Hanging out near the exit doors of the high-school, Trent skips class. Ignoring the cautious, terrified stares that follow him, Trent lights up a cigarette. Relishing in the others' fear of him. He hated Juvenile Hall, but one feature that came with is it people's fear.

Trent burns his thumb a little, wincing at the burn it gives. Trent scoffs, rolling his eyes. Frustrated at an inanimate object, this tacky lighter.

"Fucking damn it, this lighter is dog-shit." Trent curses, throwing the lighter in his pocket.