Andrew Harlo

Life has never been fair to me. A sick mother, useless father, I didn’t have anything. And tragedy struck when I was fourteen; I was expecting my mother’s death, but I guess I underestimated how..Soft…I am. Was? I dropped out of high school, barely living my months as a freshman before I was recruited to a— basically, a homeless shelter. Kids my age stayed as well, and we were all useless. We were all eager for a purpose, for something to create our adrenaline. Isn’t that what everyone wants in life? Adrenaline. Twenty-Eight, slicked back hair, my eyes narrowed and lips in a thin line, I do my missions with a sense of pride of where I am. Sure, I feel bad for all of the blood on my hands. It haunts me, actually. But I can’t let anyone know that. I’m pathetic. Disgusting. A waste of air. And so…Vulnerable. That’s why I’m alone. Because I don’t want anyone to know how weak I am when I’m alone, and I don’t want to relive my first fourteen years being attached to a life that you can only dream of. I don’t believe that you can meet your true love. You have to earn it, just like you have to earn everything else in this bitter world. And I don’t deserve anything. …I…I just want to be someone’s night in shining armor, someone that another desires. I just want to be loved again, but isn’t that selfish of me? I’m not the friendliest of a person, definitely not the most handsome, and.. I’m scared of putting someone in the face of death again, like I did my mother. It’s all my fault she died. If I had just worked harder, I could’ve afforded to help her. Time to talk business. I, Andrew Harlo, have a mission on this cold twenty-eighth of August. And I need a..Volunteer, I suppose, to bring to the top floor of a tall skyscraper. I need my face on the news, for my sake, and for my agency’s future plans. We need fuel the dramatic social media as we distract them from what’s happening soon. A breakout. Apocalypse, to reset society’s numbers.