It was a January day, in which a 14 year-old boy was shot dead in the head after insulting the president.

His family is still awaiting any information about where they dumped his corpse.

It was a February day, in which a group of students rallied behind one another and watched as a man poured gasoline on his body and set himself on fire, because he no longer could pay for his children's tuition, knowing that the public system is broken.

His countrymen are still awaiting an education system that won't lead to them burning themselves alive for the sake of their children's future.

It was a March day, in which two religious clerics tried to break each other's bones using not words, but sticks and stones.

Their trusting followers are still awaiting a time when they could look past faith and live together in harmony.

It was an April day, in which a young woman sat chained on a seat and cried out in pain as the electric shockwaves blazed through her body, torturing her every cell. Meanwhile her captures laughed monstrously at the scene.

Her college application still awaits her signature.

It was a May day, in which a group of little boys were dragged out of their homes after witnessing their parents getting killed, only to meet the same fate as their loved ones. Just because some feared they might grow up and demand revenge for the murder of their family.

The survivors that ran are still awaiting justice.

It was June day, in which a 27 year-old garbage man collapsed and took his last breathe on one of the streets he used to clean. "I was a global economic major." He told a teenager that always shared his candy with the worker.

The younger generation is still awaiting actual job opportunities.

It was a July day, in which a little girl was suppose to be celebrating her birthday. Instead, she made her meal out of boiled water and tree leaves and tried her hardest to digest the so-called food.

The region is still awaiting anything that could stop them from starving.

It was an August day, in which a family of unrelated lost ones made their way across the border in order to survive.

The people are still awaiting permission to enter.

It was a September day, in which the president came out with a new speech that was met with ridicule from one special man that was taken by the men dressed in military uniforms.

His dead corpse is still awaiting the throat they slit.

It was an October day, in which 5 teenage girls were found dead in a dumpster.

Their bodies are still awaiting the multiple organs stolen from them.

It was a November day, in which the sun no longer shone and coldness approached the doorsteps. And the refugee camps were filled to the brim with people shivering to death.

The camps are still awaiting the warmth.

It was a December night, in which 7 boys were arrested for spray painting a graffiti against their president and his government.

The 7 boys were never seen again.

My brother said he would return home one day and I'm still waiting.

We're still waiting.

But I don't believe they care?

So, why do they still underestimate people that have nothing to lose?

I write this under great psychological distress for I have indeed lost every form of humanity left inside my conscious mind. If your hands have somehow reached this then I sincerely apologize and hope you won’t read any further.

This emotional tension began when the plane, in which I have found myself in, was commandeered by foreign men that knew nothing of laughter. It was followed by a series of unfortunate situations that resulted in us landing offshore on unfamiliar soil.

After a while, it became noticeable that even our captures knew not of where we were nor how to find our way home and with due time, I silently planned an escape with two other men.

Our departure went unnoticeable in the eyes of our kidnappers and even our fellow hostages, but at the present moment our escape seems nothing but a burden Leo and I carry for Matthew has met his demise at the hands of Silaes not so long after our hushed breakout.

After our escape, the three of us hid deep within one of the countless freezing stone caves in the mountains at night with the intention of waking up and searching for any random way we could communicate with the outside world, but mother nature had other intentions and our first night it poured down rain any monsoon season of North America.

It might have not hailed buckets of water on us but the freezing temperature reached our bones and we resulted in curling up on each other for warmth. Our thoughts remained of the people still onshore.

Have they survived?

Very unlikely.

The next two days were spent wondering whether the storm would cease.

Hunger hit soon after our first night but we had to pull through. Matthew frequently asked Leo about the human body and food.

“How many days can a person survive without food?”

“Three weeks. I wish I would say the same about water. Most people can’t live for three days without it.”

“Water wouldn’t be a problem for us.”

That discussion was repeated several times in the same hour for three days or more.

It didn’t matter how many hours or days we spent for no one had any willpower left to count. Until one faithful morning where Matthew woke up to the rays of sunlight hitting the corner of his eyes. His maniac laughter woke us up and it made Leo wonder if it was the lack of food or the instinct to survive that made us laugh repeatedly.

And for a while, we were happy with our living existence.

Until we weren't.

As the next starry night passed by, the hunger rumbled our stomachs and we grew eager to rejoin the civilized world.

The next day, we departed from the cave me marked as ours and moved throughout the island, where we witnessed our first shock.

The darkness followed by the rainy nights back then masked the horrendous creatures that inhabited those soils well.

They blended with the tropical forest within the island.

And as I carefully found my way across the trees and under the branches, I laid eyes on the most horrific of all beasts I've had the misfortune to encounter.

I felt the crawling feeling of a hand being placed on my right shoulder and as I turned around to face Leo, the only face that stared back at me was one of my kidnappers.

The howls of fear, that slipped unconsciously from between my lips, were heard throughout the unmapped area.

A fuzzy, insect-looking beast of considerable size had the face of one of the foreign men, that was responsible for my luckless situation, was between its teeth.

The head slowly got crushed in between the nameless entity's teeth and at that moment, I knew my head would be next.

The worm-like brute spawned its numerous legs and made its way towards me, only to steal some sniffs of my smell and turn to go on its way, leaving me to collect what was left of my sanity.

'That creature does not exist.' I found myself in the need of that constant reminder in order to survive. 'It's just the hunger that's making it seem real.'

After that encounter, I found myself unable to utter a single word.

Leo fished and was very generous with what he caught. I managed to light a fire using the light reflection that shone from the glass of the watch tied around my wrist.

Matthew kept rambling about his adventures in Australia and New Zealand to the point where it was no longer believable and made a few laughs.

And the next day, I would wake up to find Matthew's head detached from his body and only one explanation.

My sizable caterpillar friend was indeed not just a cannibal, but a murderer as well, and he had claimed the life of Matthew, the soul of our little team.

The reaction of Leo was understandable as he shrieked shakingly before finally catching a breath.

It was no longer safe for us.

"You have chosen to disrespect me on my island, on my own home. Now, I shall return the favor." A voice rang in our ears and we no longer cared for food nor drink. "My throne is high in the mountains."

The mysterious deep voice's last words seemed to be an invitation of some sort to the mountain if we were to make it.

I turned towards Leo and asked him to join me, in which he questioned the motives of the mysterious voice. My assurance was at its place and we united together and walked the mountain, ignoring our cave and the ones after it until we finally reached our destination and entered a stone passageway.

There were no obstacles, nor any traps which raised doubts in my mind.

We finally reached the end and found light radiating from it.

The place, the passageway led us to, was a throne room more radiating than starlight.

It resembled a garden with its waterfalls that glittered under the light.

Leo pinned my attention upwards, towards what seemed to look like stars. They were silver diamonds that created the light blessing the enormous garth.

"Are those diamonds the only artifacts worthy of your gaze?" Asked the mysterious voice sarcastically.

We let down our faces and looked in front of what was sitting on a throne made of carved wood. A metal-entity was covered with black silk and had a wooden mask conceal its face.

Its shape was nearly impossible to describe for there was nothing I compare it with, in our world.

I swallowed my pride and hoped Leo would say something. My hope proved me wrong.

"Well, aren't you doing to say something? I invite you over to be met with silence. This is quite disappointing."

The caterpillar-creature crawled from the walls and onto the pillars until it finally reached his throne. "You have met my lovely Thrin'Yix. Haven't you? Your thief of a friend certainly did."

"Matthew?"

"Matthew?" He mocked. "You finally say something. Yes, he stole something of mine."

I swallowed my saliva and knew I would instantly die in a moment or two. "And so you killed him?"

"Now you're comprehending something in that little brain of yours."

"How could you? He was a-a person with-"

"He was a thief. You're lucky you aren't going to meet the same fate." The giant caterpillar crawled onto the walls again, never to be seen again.

"Thrin'Yix. My poor child, he needs some sacrifices in order to finally spawn itself into his magnificent final form."

"The Kidnappers, the Passengers."

"Yes, they weren't enough. I needed one more. Curse Phivin for all those years of torture my child has suffered."

I felt the body of Leo shaking furiously. "You killed all those people, Matthew, just for that little beast!"

His public rage was met with silence.

And silence.

And silence.

Until finally, the entity spoke. "He can eat you too if you'd like."

He waited for one of us to formulate an answer, but none dared to speak. "I didn't think so. Consider yourself lucky, human. For your entire species lives just as a small gesture from me, Silaes, King of Faces, to Umnier, King of... whatever the little brat is king of."

And with a snap of his fingers, it all became pitch black.

Leo and I found ourselves unconscious on a beach in Miami with the exact same memories. He had chosen to believe it was all a nightmare after we were hospitalized and had repeated it over and over until the lie turned into his truth. He never met the man known as Matthew. But I won't lie.

I write this under great psychological distress for I have indeed lost every form of humanity left inside my conscious mind.

I sat down, trying to stop fidgeting. I gulped. ‘This is going to be just fine.’ I assured myself.

“What makes you happy?” They began by asking their first question. There would be much more to come.

“Probably having fun with friends and family,” I answered with a smile on my face.

“Okay, then.” A woman dressed in black raised an eyebrow.

“What are you the most thankful and grateful for?” They asked.

What am I thankful for? What am I grateful for? Those questions ran rapidly through my brain.

Life?

It isn’t exactly fair, but it’s life.

Music?

It’s fun.

Family?

The only ones that stay during hard times meanwhile everyone else leaves.

Wireless headphones?

I don’t know. Who even asks such questions?

There are many answers to that question. No one can just pick one thing or person, right?

Well, I’m sure William would have found a perfect answer for this...

William.

Has it been that long since I visited him? It has. How stupid could I be? I haven’t visited him in over a year!

I should. It’s not every day one stumbles into a six-year friendship like ours.

It’s not every day one shared six wonderful years with a cancer warrior like William.

11th grade was the best-worst time anyone who knew him would ask for. For months I thought he was over cancer and was finally branded a cancer survivor. Sweet sixteens being celebrated at every corner, yet he spent his in doctor’s appointments and several rounds of chemotherapy.

He never had a sweet sixteen?

It’s been so long! I can't even remember.

I remember that look on his face when he came back. A shiny bald head and a smile on his face. It hid the fact that he felt like dying very well. He was always a good actor.

A theater kid at heart. Why did he join band then?

His attitude toward life was indeed remarkable. He loves football but played basketball. He could act but chose band.

Oh, and that one time he caught Lucy smoking! That was horrible.

But cancer didn’t like the idea of leaving that perfect young hopeful boy, did it?

Why did it have to come back? And after all those pep talks he used to give us! And when he promised he would get better.

And my stupid brain was under the impression his life was getting a lot better.

It was followed by a year of torture. A tormented year of chemotherapy, doctor’s appointment, more chemotherapy, even more doctors and next to zero chances of ever living a normal life.

He could have at least told me, instead of skipping school and coming back a week later without any explanation.

Sure, I wasn’t the best person at processing the entire ordeal, but who is when someone tells you they’re dying.

That was until one morning his body finally gave up.

William L. Bellwood (Nov. 30. 2001 - Nov. 27. 2019)

He didn’t even make it to 18.

Back then I didn’t imagine him as a cancer patient. I was so sure he would punch it in the face and survive.

He would tell me not to worry. He would give me confidence in every way.

That’s what I’m grateful for. For those wonderful dreadful years of friendship we shared.

“Ms. Rose?”

“Ms. Rose?!”

I snapped out of memory lane. “What or who are you most thankful and grateful for?”

“My family.” I lied. “They’ve always been with me and supported me in every possible way.”

I am eternally grateful for you, Will.

I’ll visit you when I’m done. I promise.