(.) If you are reading this, whoever you may be, chances are that I won’t touch this device ever again.
(.) I’m currently trapped in a series of circumstances, whose exits will most likely end in death.
(.) Regardless of my actions, it seems I have to face the worst kind of truth ahead. The one that dictates I’ve lost, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.
(.) It’s a pessimistic reality, but I’ve had enough time to accept it.
(.) Some time will pass before anything happens to me. On the meanwhile, I shall write here all of those circumstances I mentioned a moment ago. Or more concretely, the events prior them, as a testimony of my part. This way, I might get off my mind a remorseful thought I’ve had for a long while.
(.) I’m not the only person involved in this story. There are many facts I can’t explain, by choice or simply lack of knowledge. We all have witnessed different events, and there are words only some can say or prove.
(.) Perhaps a different source would explain better than what I’m about to type. However, that would mean giving out certain details of personal nature which don’t play a role at all.
(.) You may argue that I’m wrong, but I would like the possible readers to stand neutral in this story, without the influence of my opinions or beliefs. It’s only fair that way.
(.) I should put a warning note here. Some sections will seem unbelievable at first. I won’t blame you if you decide to look at this with skepticism. However, I must beg for patience - any doubt will find its answer somewhere later. It’s the only thing I can ask for at this point.
(.) With this said, I’m going to start.
(.) It happened the day the eight of us met together, fearing what would our future be. And the only certain fact at that moment was that we would never be the same after.