Mark jolted awake and looked around the dark room. Whatever he was laying on was hard as rock. The air was still. It was silent outside. Not even any wind.

Some sunlight started peaking in through the small window above him on the wall. It revealed a small cell, four weird posters, a wooden table next to him, a small game system on the table and an empty plate.

Mark didn't remember anything. He couldn't remember how he got there or why he was there. He held his head in his hand and noticed a pile of envelopes on the ground. The letters they had contained were strewn about over the layer of cheap confetti on the floor.

He moved to the end of the bed and picked up a light pink letter. The bloodstain on it jolted his memory. "Charlotte…" He whispered. He looked up and breathed in sharply. He let the letter drop out of his shaking hand as it all rushed back to him.

Tiny Bug Tim moved to his shoulder but Mark ignored him.

He struggled to move back to the bed and leaned against the wall. He had been in this cell as the world died outside from some virus that Dr. Money had put out there. All of his friends were dead.

He was alone.

Mark was alone.

He choked up and held back tears as the sadness overwhelmed him. Soon he broke and cried into his hands, slowly rocking himself back and forth until he fell over onto his side. He faced the gray wall.

Loneliness can drive a person insane. Mark had felt this before but couldn't remember when. He couldn't remember anything really before this jail cell.

He'd never met Charlotte or Salvadore but he had felt like he'd known them for years through the letters from the few days before.

Mark stared at the wall and let the tears fall to the bed. "I'm alone until I die."

He heard the door open and someone walked in. "Ain't that the truth," a male voice said and Mark rolled over as he heard a gun cock. His eyes widened as he looked down the barrel of the gun. He started panicking and looked up at the man. The dark circles around his eyes seemed familiar, even the fauxhawk. He looked back at the gun. "Let's find out."

This man put the gun point blank on Mark's forehead and pulled the trigger before he could react. He watched Mark fall awkwardly onto the bed and bleed to death. His lifeless eyes stared at the wall. He left the room and shut the door. He faced the rest of the hallway and stopped as a voice spoke into his ear, "Let's see how long it takes to break him."

"Agreed." He answered, twirling the gun on his finger with the trigger guard. He walked down the hall and walked through a pair of black doors.

Mark woke up in a dark room. He looked around at all the posters and his eyes landed on the letters on the floor. He remembered that his friends were dead and he was all alone. He turned and saw blood splattered on the wall. He looked down from where he got up. The bloodstain was massive and left a trail over the side of the bed and into a pool on the floor.

His eyes landed on the letters again and he started crying. He started hearing yelling in his head. He stared at the wall in front of him and held his head. The yelling only got louder and turned into screams. He couldn't tell what they were saying. There were too many of them.

If Mark had been able to hear even one of them, he would have understood the words 'We are here, Mark.', 'We are listening.' and 'We can hear you loud and clear.'

His cries turned into screams of anguish that echoed through the empty building. He fell onto the bed and lay on his side. The screams in his head started dying out. His voice started cracking and the screams turned into quick sobs. He let out quiet screams of misery into his empty cell.

The door creaked open. He looked and saw someone stand there. This person's dark eyes were encircled with thick dark shadows. This person's eyes were infixed on Mark.

He didn't say anything. His cold glare provoked Mark to speak through quick sobs.

"Who are you?" He asked trying to catch his breath. Maybe he wasn't alone and maybe this person was nice.

A smile crept across this person's mouth, "I am death." He growled and he revealed the knife he was carrying. Mark's eyes widened. Death took two steps and kneeled onto Mark's bed next to him. He grabbed Mark's hair and pulled his head back.

Mark didn't fight it. Maybe death was the answer.

"To bad I'm not going to set you free." He said with a smile and looked into Mark's eyes as he lined up the tip of the blade with Mark's neck. With one swift move, he drove the blade into his skin and dragged it through his neck, slicing open his throat.

Mark chocked on his own blood as it gushed out of his mouth and held his throat as Death backed up. He watched Mark take his last gargled breath and die. He tilted his head to one side as Mark's lifeless body fell to the bed.

Death shut the door behind him and his laughed echoed until he left the hallway.

Mark jolted awake and saw the dark cell light up with the rising sun. He felt something sticky on the bed and looked down at the blood stains. It smelled disgusting. The bloodstain on the wall had dried up.

The letters on the floor reminded him that he was alone.

He looked at Tiny Bug Tim as he pointed to Mark's neck. He felt his skin and his fingers ran over a long scar across his neck that he didn't remember getting. He shuddered. He hated the neck slicing thing. Always did, always will.

He heard the crackling of wood on fire outside his cell and stood up. He instantly recognized the face of his brother. "Thomas!" He shouldn't be here. Mark rushed to the door and couldn't open it. He held onto the bars on the window.

Thomas opened his eyes and tried to move but couldn't. He was tied to a pyre. "Mark! Mark, help me!" He shouted at his brother on the other side of the locked cell door.

Mark couldn't believe his eyes as Death dropped a lit match onto the pyre. It quickly lit up. Thomas screamed as the fire raced across his body. The flames engulfed him, "Mark…" He strained to say through the smoke he kept breathing in. "Brother… Help me…" Thomas's voice was weak and faded quickly, drowned out by the crackling of the pyre.

"No! Thomas!" Mark screamed as reality hit. He backed away from the door as Death walked over to it and thrust it open.

"You couldn't save him Mark." His voice was unsympathetic. He shoved Mark back onto the bed. "He died because you couldn't save him." He slaps Mark and moves onto the bad as he tries to back away. "Why couldn't you save him?" He slaps Mark harder, leaving a red hand print on his face. "Useless!" He shoved Mark into the wall as his voice echoed. "Weak!" He punches Mark in the chest and backs away as Mark yelps in pain and tries to breathe. "Worthless!" He punched him again and he back lashed forward. Death grabbed his neck and got really close to Mark's face. "Mistake." He growled and watched Mark die inside with each word. He raises his fist again and punched Mark's chin so hard that his head spun around violently enough to break his neck.

Death backed up and glared at the dying Mark leaning on the wall. He closed the door behind him.