The boy sat before the empty fireplace, where ever since the day he had lived in this lonely room, he had never seen any logs of wood burn in it. He was bent over a piece of paper as he wrote down,
"Today is the day they plan to kill me. I heard them talking about it, but surprisingly... I do not fear death as much as I feared living. I live in hell each day. I wonder what the real hell will be like, as they said I belong there. My only regret is that I never got to live before I die."
After sticking the paper into a hole next to the fireplace, he stared at it with blank eyes. He had long accepted now that his parents did not love him right, and he did not even know what true love felt like—because what they called love was suffocating and killing him every day. They were turning him into an unfeeling stone with each passing day.
