I should start from youth. Well, childhood, really. I mean, I was young when I died anyway, right? Well, childhood was…weird. I don't think most kids grew up going through what I went trough. Being pumped through with shredder rounds doesn't even seem to compare according to Matt's description. I don't think Matt has ever suffered, and judging by the foolish way he handled things, I don't think he was prepared to take on the real world. He was just too young at heart. You know, I think the only way you can prepare for the real world truly, is to suffer from a young age, and learn to take it as you grow older. It makes you fearless. You know from the insufferable pain that you are not immortal and you can't start over and change what has happened. I learned that when I was five.

So yes, like most kids my age, I was the son of a single mother. Not a bastard, I knew exactly who the mother fucker was that sired and left me, but raised by only my mother. My mother wasn't a monster either. She was actually quite good to me. I went to a good school, and got fine grades. Well, no. they weren't all that fine. My grades suffered because I didn't care to try. At this time in my life, the only worry was the rather large boy on the playground that never gave me a chance to fight back. I could have fought back if I wanted too, I just didn't want to. I didn't care.

My mother was a wonderful person. She was kind, and always tried to get me to do my best. But, you know what they say… Bad things happen to good people. In this case, it happened to two good people. My mother and my self. Wait, I have to go back a moment.

When I was three, I joined a Karate class with my best friend Lucius. He was from Italy and had trouble with English sometimes. I don't know how, but he was a wiz at pronouncing my name. I know its spelled Mihael, but most people just call me Michael. It's easier. Well, they did then. When I met Lucius, I pronounced his name Loo-SI-us. I was wrong. Apparently in Italy it's pronounced LOO-chus. When I told him about the common mispronunciation of my name, he told me it was probably MEE-Hey-el. I liked that more than Michael, so it stuck.

Well, as I was saying before, my mother was driving me home from Karate on a Tuesday night Well, Lucius and I both. We were talking about the names and their origins. Apparently, I'm Jewish, though I don't look it. Up until the day I died, I never practiced Judaism. I was Catholic. I know this all must sound so fluffy, but it changes pretty quickly. Mum joined in on the conversation by telling me that my father was Jewish. I bet you can guess now why I never practiced the damned religion. This clearly made me mad, even then, that she brought him up at all. My mother turned back just in time to swerve being hit by a moron speeding in every zigzag pattern he could through the lanes. However, he'd apparently cut off another guy who came up and hit the driver's side of the car. It was the most horrific moment of my life up until then. I was only five, and in a car accident that could have taken my life.

Everything slowed down and I could feel every strand of hair on my head shift through the impact. The sheer force of it hit me like a wave, knocking the air out of my lungs and bowing my body away from it. If I remember right, I think I was screaming. Hell, what five-year-old wouldn't be screaming bloody murder as they experienced a car crash. Your mind just quits out on you. You can't think of anything by the basic instincts. Survive, and that's it. All you can think about is breathe in, breathe out, and don't get hit by anything. My head was slammed into the backseat window, and I could hear glass shattering. Oddly enough, I felt nothing. Not the pain, not the broken glass that was undoubtedly lodging itself into my soft skull, not even the fact that my mother was draped across the two front seats and covered in blood. The front end of the car that had hit us was driven through the seat my mother had been occupying during the impact. After a still moment, broken only by Lucius' sniffling, it dawned on me. My mother was dead. I think that's what changed me forever, really. My life after the wreck had a lot to do with who I became, but this was a huge hit.

I fought the belt that held me to the bloody backseat of the car. I don't think that Lucius was hurt, just scared shitless. I would have been, had my mind not been on my mother at the time. They always show in movies how people go through horrible trauma and still find the coordination to struggle to the one they cared abut that was dying. That is not at all true or possible. I wanted to fight my way to my mother, and I did, as hard as I could. The problem was, my mind was no longer working in logic. I had no idea how to break free of the friggin' seatbelt that held me, and a warm liquid was traveling down my spine. I should have known that was from the impact with the window, but at the time, I didn't register anything other than the desperate need of a toddler to get to his mother.

I kicked and screamed and fought, but to no avail. I was hopelessly trapped inside the car, bound to the back seat. I think I screamed 'mommy' until I slipped out of consciousness. Mind you that wasn't long. My knowledge of medical science now shows that I was running on pure adrenaline from the moment I hit the window. Loosing that much blood from you head should knock you out instantly.