One hour

I was 14

When it happened. 14. Now I'm 17. And colder. Knowing that the world isn't what it seems. The the world can be a bad place. That it can be hard. That sometimes it feels like it isn't worth it. That sometimes, sometimes you wish it ended; you could escape. That's what started my vice; and it's the only thing that will end it. Ending it. Creating some form of difference on the world. Because I didn't want to be mere meat. Because that's what I will end up as; decomposing, useless, it would be as if I had never lived. But I have lived.

I was only 14. It was a cold night. Reminded me of tonight. I was writing. As I did. Normal. But now my vision of normal is distorted. 'Normal' has become watching friends die in the hands of the metal. 'Normal' is wishing every day that life would change. That it wouldn't be so cold.
14. They uprose. That was when it became colder. The world turned metal. They captured us. They killed us. They left me to rot.
15. I started running. Colder still. Metal multiplied. Sickness started. Dizzy spells. Vomiting. Lost blood. But it wasn't physical. Inside I was dying. The metal was slowly killing me. I didn't know then.
16. Sickness grew. Lost a will to live. Darkness cast its shadow over me. It slowly encased me. I had all but died. Only one flicker. One spark. One fleck of brightness. Waiting for my one hour.
17. My vice came into being; fully formed. It was still cold. But better. Life felt a little bit better. I was still trapped; left to rot inside the cyber cages, but mentally, I felt free. Unbounded thoughts. Not tied to darkness. I had not yet perfected it, but I felt something that I had not felt in a long time; freedom. And it felt spectacular.