Tate thinks the world is rotten— no, he doesn't think, he knows it's rotten.

He sees it, everyday, he sees how gross and cruel people are to eachother, and he really wouldn't mind if they all dropped dead. No, he wouldn't mind, he'd help.

Today, he was beat up again, much like everyday.

As he walks down the lonely street, he doesn't even bother in wiping the blood from his nose nor to soothe the pain of the cigarette burn in his skin. He's used to this, he's used to it all.

If anything, the only thing that truly annoys him is how everyone bats a blind eye when it comes to his suffering.

The world is rotten, he knows it.

He also knows that someone is following him, he felt someone behind him from two blocks ago, and with all the annoyance in the world, he turns around to face this person who's walking behind him.

"What?"