1 Chapter 1: Death Hits

Saturday/ 1th August/ Winter

1:38 P.M.

Dear Journal, today I'm taking a small visit to the dollar store again. It's been a while since my last visit. The reason for my long absence is because I was recently held in the hospital, still don't like the place what so ever. For why I was there to begin with is simply cause of a yearly operation, the one main reason why I deeply dislike hospitals. I'm not sick, I simply just have lumps in my digestive system. For that reason alone is why I go to hospitals, so that doctors can remove them. I'm getting a stomachache by just thinking about the experience I'm constantly put through. Despite it all, I have to endure it so I remain alive.

1:51 P.M.

Dear Journal, I've recently witnessed a theft of a amount of books right before me. Before I could even shout towards cashier of said thief, the sound of gun fire echoed within my ears as I stare down upon my torso. Today I was wearing a clean white shirt, however, now it painted with a bold color of dark red. I felt a shot of pain from my gun wound reaching up within my throat. As I cough heavily, trying to transfer the fleeting oxygen leaving my pounding lungs. My body couldn't stop itself shaking from the unbearable sensation I have succumb to.

I then heard something was tossed near my right leg, as the sound of a stuttering thud upon the floor. I then turn my gaze towards my lower right and immediately tried to run away, however, it was too late. The grenade that was recently on the floor exploded with a fearsome roar, fire surrounded my right leg and arm. This is it, this will be the last time I write in my journal ever again. Fair well, cruel world, along with the trash who lived in it. See you all in hell... goodbye.