Phoenix, who now just turned 17, walked down the street with his hands in his pockets looking down hiding his face, it was now night. No one could see his face, and no one was supposed to. Everyone was afraid of him, like he was a monster, cruel, would do anything to hurt anybody. Though he wasn't that way, Phoenix wouldn't hurt a single thing or person. But if they'd happen to hurt him, he would. If he was going to hurt somebody, it's practically the end of them. His hands would be surrounded by a sort of black mist and he'd beat them until they passed out, and stabbed them over and over again until they were either dead or at least close to it. Though he can't control when or how he's going to hurt them, like something evil takes over him when he's mad.
When he walks home from school he sees shadows, which he has seen since he was 13, follow him until he gets to the door step of his house. They follow so frequently that he'd gotten used to them by the first two weeks he's seen the things. Though, he was not very fond of them for they always gave him a feeling of dread, sadness, and anger. Phoenix noticed that after they disappear from his door step he sees, in only a split second, that they turn the corner of the brick wall that holds his apartment.
He has always wondered where they come from and where they go, and most importantly why they follow him. So one day he followed them, around the corner of the brick wall that led to only dumpsters in which he passed also, and into the black portal that holds his original home. His home full of darkness.
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