My name is Felix.
Felix means 'happy' in Latin-- which is sort of a conundrum. I don't know why my parents decided to pick Felix, but they did.
You can call me PewDie though. That's what I prefer.
Today is September...September...5th or 6th. I don't really remember. Its Tuesday though, and I know only because yesterday I had mashed potatoes for lunch--signaling a Monday.
I didn't care, though. All I knew is that I was free from now on. I haven't been free for 9 years, 316 days, 2 hours, and 12 minutes.
No, I wasn't in jail. I wasn't in jail at all.
It was my fourteenth birthday when I got taken away. October 24, 2002 is the last time I've seen sunlight. Until today.
Starbright Mental Rehabilitation Center was where I've been. In a big white room, with a straight jacket, keeping my arms constrained in front of me. But I guess I never really had a choice, did I?
As I paced along the sidewalk of a park, a stolen gun practically burning a hole in my jumper pocket, my breath hitched in my throat.
I saw a familiar white mask--it was a little bigger now than the last time I saw it, nonetheless it struck a chord. I don't remember where I last saw it, but it made me feel...feel...like something was missing.
And trust me, I haven't felt something in a while.
I shook my head definitely as the man with the mask walked into Snowbelt, an ice cream shop from my childhood.
So I followed him in.
"Did you hear about-"
"Oh my god I can't believe-"
Laughter.
Commotion.
A gun shot.
Silence.
