Live, love, laugh, they always said. Live, love, laugh. But not for him. He couldn't laugh. His voice had been taken away from him for the experiments that they had done to him. They had taken it first, to make sure he couldn't scream or call for help. In that lab. No. He couldn't love. Not after what they'd done to him. All the experiments and tests he was subjected to. They'd shut off one of his eyes. Injected solids and liquids into him that would keep his blood boiling for days on end. He would try to scream away the pain, but with no voice, it was futile. No. This world was a cruel place. He couldn't love. To live. He hadn't thought about it yet. As it stood he merely existed. And after escaping from the laboratory his existence had no meaning to anyone anymore. Living meant having a meaning to your existence didn't it? So the question now was. Could he live? And if he couldn't live. Could he die?