Jeff had gone to the bar. It was midnight on a Monday, so he knew there wouldn’t be many people. This was the one place Jeff wouldn’t kill anyone. He needed this bar. He needed some type of normalcy.

Of course, there was a few people at the bar. Not many, but a few. A few of the bartenders looking in his direction then whispering to one another. He even had to yell at a few patrons for coming up to him and either making rude remarks about his scars or pestering him about how he got them.

He gripped the whiskey glass in his hand, folding his other arm on the table and resting his head down. He needed a break. He needed something normal…. But he wasn’t normal.