It's 1983. He's sitting in his bedroom. Wearing a grey wide beater. A pair of black sweats. And black socks. He was slumped in his beanbag chair a joint to his lips. A lighter limply in the other. His door was shut and he was locking his family out from his life currently.

His mom was in the kitchen. His dad was out in the fields dancing in the marijuana plants. And Shelly? Oh boy don't get him started. She was extremely abusive to the young troublemaker.

His Bonnie mask was laying on the floor. His dark black hair was lazily flopped over his dark brown eyes. And he just lay there. In his darkly lit room.