!!SPOILERS FOR DREP!!

I had grown up alone in a sea of people.

My parents didn't want much to do with me, I didn't have any friends, and my relatives were mostly dead.

The only one I had was my little brother Dai.

And now even he was gone.

As I kneel in front of Eita's body, blood dripping from my palms I can only remember the life I used to have.
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My dad left when I was young, right before my mother gave birth to my brother. Dai never even got to meet him.

Out of shame and misery my mom became an alcoholic. She tried to sip her troubles away, but to no avail.

Once when I was 9 years old I recall the first time she asked for me to make her a drink.

I was young and naive so I poured some alcohol into some other stuff and gave it to her, her eyes lit up and she hugged me for the first time in months and whispered: you're a natural Kohei.

So I continued mixing and making drinks illegally till the age of 18 when I'm currently attending bartending school.

But a lot of shit happened before then.

At 13 I felt strange.

And no that wasn't just puberty.

I felt angry.

Any small inconvenience made me so upset I'd kick a table over or punch a gaping hole in the wall.

I was in so much pain I couldn't handle doing anything, being in my own body was terrifying.

I even stopped eating.

Food was disgusting to me, I'd make sure anything I ate never got to my stomach...by any means necessary.

My mom, although a crazy drunk realized something was up and took me to the ER.

The doctors just said I had stomach problems and told me to go home.

So I went to a real doctor, one who knew that I was suffering and gave me a real diagnosis: IED and ARFID. IED stands for Intermittent Explosive Disorder which explained my anger issues and ARFID which stood for Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder which explained my eating problems.

The doctor said that my anger developed with age and genetics, I learned from my mother that my dad had the same anger issues as me. And my eating problems sprouted from my anger at my surroundings.

The doctor put me on mood stabilizers to help combat my anger and a special diet to help me eat again.

But the second me got home my mom tossed the pills in the garbage, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and cried in the couch for hours. She yelled and screamed at me, saying that I was messed up, saying that the doctor didn't know what he was talking about, that I was fine.

I was done.

It was bubbling up inside me.

All this hate and loathing.

So i socked her in the stomach and ran as she hollered at me.

I ran and ran and ran and sat on the side of the road and sobbed.

What the hell was wrong with me?!
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I eventually returned home but I hid.

I feel as if I hid from my furious mother for all of my life.

I fished my pills out of the trash when I was sure she had gone to bed and took one.

I wanted to get better.
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In regards to my eating disorder I wasn't doing so well either.

I discovered certain comfort foods such as dry toast, plain pasta, white rice, and anything matcha flavored. I adored matcha.

Once for my 16th birthday my mother got me a cake. I was so excited because I practically begged her for a matcha flavored one. She agreed and went to pick it up.

I opened the box when she got home and tasted it.

Vanilla...it was vanilla.

I had run out of pills a long time ago so I could barely control my anger.

I bashed my fist into the cake and cried.

I just wanted a normal cake.

Not only a normal cake, I just wanted a normal life.

I thought when I got my letter to attend the ultimate getaway it would be beneficial for my mental health, that I'd make friends and be a happy person again.

But with blood on my hands I tell my story and cry about my sorrows.

With blood on my hands I know I will meet my demise.