Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26099762-20150423170841

Important Note
This Pasta is slightly based upon the game "Train," which can be found here; http://www.indiedb.com/games/the-train. Ironically I had no idea this existed until i was halfway through the story. I just got the subject as a Dark Romantic prompt for English and wanted to go all out. I have never ridden a train before and this is my first official creepypasta. I'm sorry if I get any information wrong. Some parts may not make that much sense either chronologically. A lot of errors occurred in the copying from my google docs to the pasting here. mainly indenting and italics, so please forgive those if i miss some corrections. Thank you so much!!! I will be doing a creepypasta read of this soon. If you decide to reuse this in anyway, just mention my youtube and you're good! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCn9G22bOG2rx2DZSkRhS10A Love you all! P.S. The chapter titles are all song quotes :) EDIT: I uploaded this pasta a few times because i didn’t realize it was being deleted XD Anyway, if anyone can help me fix the formatting just message me! I love you all!!!

“Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.” -Hemingway

Part 1: I Need You So bad
The Alberta Train Station was a strange one. While well known and used often by locals, not a single soul knows when it was built or by whom. The train ran from the small town of Samston, Virginia, through quite a bit of the state, which made it stranger that no one else knew it was being built. Many people say it was just there one day. Even though the question remained, no one minded; thousands took the trains every day to get to their locations. One of the many people who rode to the main station every day was 64 year old Prentiss J. Hathaway, a local who had been riding train 7 back home to his house every weekday for the last 20 years at the same time, 4:30. Hathaway owned a local bank near the station, and even at his age he refused to retire. The town knew him very well as a loveable old man and a good friend, for while normally isolated he was one of the nicest people in town. He often greeted everyone at the station. Hathaway always received a “hello” back. Today Hathaway sat out in front of his stop, a bench on the platform, close to the tracks. Even though people greeted Hathaway, they knew what day it was: 5 years since his wife died. Everyone who knew him knew his wife as Samantha, or Sam for short. But to him, she was “My Princess,” or “My Perfection.” You could never find a couple more in love on the face of this Earth, no matter how hard you tried. Samantha died of a stroke at only age 58, a year younger then Hathaway at the time. She was a sweet lady, very pretty even as she got old. The memory of her on these anniversaries always filled the old man with dread. In all honesty, who could blame him? Hathaway said nothing to anyone. Five years, he thought in his mind, since she left my life. Everyday is a sadness without you, my darling… Samantha had not been able to have any children, so they often had pets. The only pet left was waiting for Hathaway at home, a seven year old Husky named Jeremiah. Jeremiah meant so much to Hathaway. He often said that Jeremiah was the last surviving memory of his wife. Many people that visited Hathaway said he treated and referred to Jeremiah as his best friend. Hathaway acknowledged the dog in his mind today as the only thing left to look forward to today. Hathaway was deep in thought and sadness as what he thought was his train arrived at the station. Slowly, Hathaway managed himself up as he made his way to the train, not even realizing no one else but him was boarding. He instinctively said “Hello” to the empty void where the conductor should have been, and took his seat on the front of the first train car. Hathaway scooted as close to the window as he could, not noticing the train’s slightly but visibly deceased appearance. He stared out into the fog outside. The trees lined the tracks and blocked the sun, and all he could think about was if his wife was still here. Eventually the train started moving. Hathaway decided it wouldn’t be bad to rest his eyes. He had a long day at work, and someone would wake him if they hit his stop…

As the train jolted to a stop, Hathaway jolted awake. He was very confused as to what was going on. Looking out the window, the words came through his mind, flowing out of his mouth, as the words sank into his ears- “Where am I?” The area was not like his home. It was extremely dark outside, but the houses surrounding the tracks seemed sinister- almost like they were staring. He rubbed his eyes out of instinct to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Hathaway had strange dreams his whole life, and they were often realistic. He would dream he were in his bed trying to sleep and wake up to the same thing. It was just now first response to rub his eyes. After this he came to an even more unsettling realization; He was alone. Hathaway waited in his booth for about 5 minutes but what to him felt like forever. He waited for someone to board or leave the train. Not a single sign of life was present, besides his ever speedily beating heart. He felt that if it weren’t pounding hard enough to break his rib cage that he wouldn’t believe he was alive. Hathaway stood up cautiously. “But what am I so cautious of?” He thought. “It’s not like there’s anyone on this train anyway.” As if on cue, the train started moving slowly. The surprise knocked Hathaway back into his seat. He now feared for his life. Hathaway stood up, with part of his fear replaced with curiosity. All he could think was to do was to try to attract some attention, for the good of him. He needed to know what was going on. “Hello?” He yelled. The man stood there for a second, before saying, “I am in the first train cart if anyone else is here.” Something deep in his mind told him, ''This is a prank. A prank by the train crew! 20 years to the day I have been riding this single train, and maybe they wanted to throw a surprise party! Maybe they didn’t even realize the date was 5 years since Samantha died!'' Hathaway chuckled at this. “Okay guys!” He said to the train. A laugh escaped his lips, joyfully. “The joke’s over! Show yourself!” The sound of footsteps echoed the train. So it was all a trick. Hathaway let out a relieved sigh at this thought. He turned and faced the next train car. He noticed the train was unlike the normal one he went on: It was as if the walls were decaying. There was a fog inside the train as well as outside. The weather was chilly for an August day. Hathaway just assumed this was all a part of the plan. The journey to the next train car was obviously short and uneventful. As Hathway entered, he thought something was gonna jump out at him, but he was proved safe. The sound of footsteps came closer as Hathaway prepared for them to jump out and yell “Surprise!!” Hathaway stood at the entrance, listening. The footsteps started to echo less and less, until he realized the steps were of multiple people, very quick and unorganized. This just assured Hathaway with his theory, as the sound became progressively louder and closer until- It just stopped. Hathaway immediately got confused. The footsteps sounded as if they were right in front of him! What had happened? He made an executive decision to go back to the front of the train. Just to see what was going on. Maybe the operator had fallen asleep? Even with computer operated trains these days, there had to be a train operator. Hathaway turned around only to jump back… for there was a little girl standing in his way. The girl said nothing, just cocked his head at him, like a concerned puppy. The girl had twin pigtails over each shoulder. She had a cute face and wore a blue dress, styled as if from the 1950’s. The girl was familiar to Hathaway but he had no idea how. Mostly out of fear, Hathaway muttered a rather quiet “Hi?” as if in fear of the girl, that she would do something bad if not properly greeted. The girl said nothing, just stared at him. After a few moments of awkwardness, she grabbed Hathaway’s hand and silently led him in the other direction. Out of fear, he chose to comply, and accompany the girl to wherever she needed him to go. They traveled into the next car. He noticed this car seemed even more decayed than the last one. He thought nothing of it at the moment, more concerned about what the girl was doing. In the next car, suddenly everything turned to white… and when the white faded and his vision returned, he was back in the hallway of his childhood home.

Part 2: These Locks Still Open
“This place….” Hathaway said out of surprise. “But how….?” He turned around to face the girl but she was gone. Alone but very curious, he took a moment to look away and think of what time he was in. He realized this was a crazy situation, but he wanted to realize what it was before panicking. It seemed to be around the time he was 5, judging by his family portraits. This is insane… Hathaway thought. ''I’m literally living in a memory. He looked down to see where his cell phone was, only to realize he couldn’t see his body.'' He tried to speak to no avail. In reality, he was nothing but a spectator. Standing, processing, and worrying, he instinctively moved towards the living room. Before he reached the living room, he heard a sharp sound from his right. It sounded like a whip. He turned and saw his parent’s bedroom. Hathaway didn’t need to look to understand the origin of the sound. Ever since he was young, Hathaway’s parents had been fighting. Not fighting over anything big either. It was always small things, like taking out the garbage or what was for dinner. The fights were the opposite. They were never small, it always turned into a huge thing in the family. Then the fight went to behind closed doors. In the memory, the sound of his mother whimpering echoed in his mind. At this age he told his friends of this interaction, but they said “It’s not fighting. You wouldn’t understand.” But he had seen his father backhand his mother in person, so he knew that was exactly what it was. His friends were older, yet they still didn’t understand what it was like. There was another sound, though: the sound of small children. A little girl and little boy, talking back and forth. He walked into the living room unsure of what to expect. As he entered, he realized what made the setting of this memory so vivid: a five-year old version of Hathaway. Talking to the little girl from the train.

Hathaway woke from the recollection to a new train car, but this one was different than the others: It had his family photos all over the wall. From all the years: ranging from age 1 to 45, the year his mother died. He was reminded of his dad leaving the family, from the photo of when he was 10. he recalled this photo: No one looked happy. His mother had bruises on her face, and his cousin that had lived with them, Max, looked uncomfortable. Hathaway had always been the one to try to make the family happy, and he smiled, but you could see the pain in his eyes. His dad just stared. Deeply disturbed, Hathaway just thought everything through. Who was this? How did he live a memory? Was this some stalker doing this, who had followed him through his whole life and is trying to tell him? Most importantly: Who was the little girl? Hathaway knew there was only way to answer this question. Move forward. The next train car, he was frightened, but not very surprised to see what he saw: a full apparition of his mother, frozen in time, and his father-hand close to her cheek. She looked to be crying, and he angry; a perfect fight for them. The image was almost a fright for Hathaway. Something stored deep in his mind he purposely forgot.. brought before his very own eyes, like a life sized copy of a picture, a gruesome image that to him could equal death. He felt a tug on his hand, and jumped in response, to the person standing beside him- the little girl again. They locked eyes. “Who are you?” Hathaway whispered, more to himself then to the girl, Once again she just stared at him, and then grabbed his hand. She gestured towards the vision before him. Hathaway understood: He needed to intervene. Carefully, he approached and grabbed his father’s hand, and moved it away from his mother’s face. He did not understand why this needed to be done, why it was so simple, but this was something that made him feel better about this memory… like he was going to forget. Hathaway turned around to see the little girl, but she was gone… and when he turned around, the vision was gone too. He understood partially, but on another hand he just couldn’t handle the confusion. “Who the hell are you,” He shouted to the train, “And what do you want from me?!” But the only response he got was the sound of the train hitting the tracks.

Part 3: Make Your Way Into My Dreams
The next train car offered nothing but the usual, decaying walls and empty seats. After this car though, he moved into the next one and felt his body overflowing with emotion before: a new memory. Hathaway this time could actually feel himself in the memory. The setting was the old subway downtown he used to ride, before riding the train. He would walk 30 minutes from his job at the bank to get to the subway, for a darker ride home. As Hathaway aged, he had realized that the train was closer and the scenery was amazing, and so he switched to riding the train. The Subway looked as it had when he had ridden: Walls graffitied, dirty floors, and lights that weren’t that bright. The scene was so real it scared him. Hathaway heard a guitar coming from down the hallway, playing a somber tune. A man in his thirties was sitting down on a piece of carpet, playing his guitar with an open case next to him to signal spare change be put his way for him playing the guitar. Hathaway found a quarter on the ground and put the quarter in the man’s jar. The man thanked Hathaway with a few fast strums, and went back on to playing the somber tune. Hathaway knew this was not the task he needed to do, but why not make a mans day, even if he isn’t real? But it is real, Hathaway thought. It feels so real. Skepticism aside, Hathaway decided to progress further down the hallway and was welcomed to the end by the sound of a woman whimpering and a man talking in a low, threatening voice. He came across a young woman being forced against the wall by an older man… but he knew the younger woman. “Samantha?” Mr. Prentiss J. Hathaway asked. The girl looked him in the eyes with fear and confusion. She didn’t exactly care how the man knew her. She just needed help. Hathaway grabbed the man’s shoulder and went to punch, but unfortunately the man got the first blow. Hathaway fell to the ground, cringing as the man stomped on his face. The pain and blood filled his face as he blacked out and suddenly was back on the train. He was confused as no vision was in front of him. All he knew was to keep going forward, even if it meant death.

The next train car, a new memory was in front of him. Snow surrounded him, as he felt the breeze on his arms. Hathaway felt forty years younger. Realizing the reality of the situation, he tried to understand as each and every bone in his body appeared stronger. His heart jumped with joy healthily and his eyes could see without blur again. He clenched both his hands only to realize his right was attached to another one. Hathaway knew who it was without even looking. He turned to see and sure enough it was Samantha, his wife, looking straight ahead down the path he was walking. She was in her young age of 23, when she had first met him. This was strange though, the memory was too pleasant for him to forget. Hathaway couldn’t even remember the previous memory. ''It dawned on him: Was this where I met her? Saving her? Is this why she loves me?'' Sam turned and looked him in the eye and smiled. Hathaway knew this was too perfect to forget. Unless… The couple came across a crashed car. This is why I forgot. In the driver’s seat lie the dead body of his father, whom he hadn’t seen since he was 10.

Hathaway woke up again in the train car, surrounded by what seemed like a raging blizzard. Snow was flurried around him, and even though he had a coat on, the chill was horrifying. He felt as if he were locked in a freezer. Hathaway pressed through the snow, shivering, teeth chattering. He crossed another train car to realize there was a second pair of footprints next to his. Once again, his logic kicked in, and he did not need to be a genius to know this only meant trouble. Even with the obvious danger being ahead, his only choice was to go forward, into the next train car. He followed his instinct. Hathaway stood into the doorway of the next car. There were no tracks in the white carpet of snow before him. A trick? Before he could process any longer, a strong force came from behind him and knocked him face first into the snow. The cold sheet of white before him provided a soft cushion for his face, luckily keeping anything from being injured. More in shock then pain, Hathaway struggled to get up before he felt both his arms being grasped. Hathaway then was thrown against the wall and came face to face with his the true force: the man who had attacked Sam. Hathaway, feeling like an old man again, felt his arm burning as he stared into the eyes of the attacker. All Hathaway could think was run,run,run… “RUN!!!” Hathaway had no idea who shouted that, but he took the offer. He got an extreme adrenaline rush and kicked the attacker in the stomach. The man grunted, and Hathaway ran for it. The next train car was not just one- it was a few train cars cut and connected like an art project, with a huge dip in the middle, filled with water. During a blizzard, how there was still unfrozen water, Hathaway did not know, but he didn’t want to take any time to comprehend it. He just ran straight in. The water was like a death trap. He felt body and bone go numb, and the water was very deep. Hathway felt like his arm was broken. He just used his other arm to paddle to the other side, through much pain. As he surfaced on the other side, he couldn’t go farther without resting, as his arm took away all of his energy. Hathaway looked back down the car to see the man wading near him. Is this the end? Hathaway thought, staring at the ceiling, all the loose wires and broken parts of the cut train. Wires. As quick as he could, Hathaway backed out of the water and grabbed one of the broken electrical wires. The wire crackled a bit, and he proceeded to put it in the water, shocking his pursuer. Hathaway leaned back, and breathed out sighs of relief and struggle. He felt himself blacking out, and as he faded, all he could see was the vision of his dad, dead in his car, and he felt slight peace.

When Hathaway woke up, he felt the cold gone. His arm felt fine again, which in his mind didn't make any sense. ''But... none of this makes any sense, so why would my arm healing out of nowhere???'' It was back to that nice day it was before. He stood up from the ground and stepped away from the water. I wouldn’t want this to end like that. He then proceeded into the next car and was immediately greeted with another memory.

Part 4: Just a Taste of What You've Paid For
Hathaway was looking through a wool mask. He was holding a gun up to a cashier in a jewelry store. ''What? When did this happen?!'' He panicked and dropped the gun. “You okay, there, Hathaway?” a man next to him said. He recognized the voice as Max, his cousin who had stayed at his house when Hathaway was a kid. “Yeah,” Hathaway said without even thinking. Didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the memory. “WELL THEN PICK THE GUN UP!!!” Max yelled. Out of fear, Hathaway picked it up and looked at his cousin- dressed like a burglar and holding a gun up to the cashier while picking jewels to rob. “You want to support your family, then do it!!!!” Hathaway didn’t think about what his cousin said. He just wanted out of his memory. He picked up the gun. His cousin proceeded to walk out of the store. Hathaway out of instinct apologized to the cashier, which seemed to confuse the cashier, but she seemed to forgive him. Hathaway told her to call the police. He then went outside with his cousin. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!?” His cousin yelled. Before Hathaway answered, his cousin shook his head. “Let’s just leave.” They went inside the car. The memory merged into another- Hathaway getting caught by the cops and his cousin running away. Another- The judge knocking down his sentence because Hathaway turned himself in, basically, and was not the ringleader. His jail cell. The horrors of jail. His wife visiting him, caring for him, bringing him strength, and understanding. Him getting out years later, a new man.

Hathaway came back to his senses. Immediately he knew something was wrong. The space he was in was tighter, hotter, worse off. The hallway was all jail cells, echoing the screams of prisoners, sentenced to time in a He approached the first cell, and down the whole hallway, thousands of arms came out of the cells, reaching, waiting. Hathaway knew what to do. He ran between all of the cells, blocking the outreaching hands which seemed to be attached to nothing. One grabbed him, and he twisted it, which caused a sickening SNAP. Hathaway managed to get out alive and well -besides his damaged psyche- only to arrive in the land of another memory.

Part 5: The First Star I See
The memory of the day his wife died was some what just a vague recollection of one event instead of a real memory of the day. He had heard days where loved ones die often are remembered in full detail. The owner of the train station had mentioned this, because his first wife had died in a robbery, and thirty years later, the owner can still remember what he had for lunch and what time he woke up. This had seemed odd for Hathaway. It was no use to him though, for he could only remember one part of that day. He expected this memory to be the one he’d go through now. He prepared for the news, the sadness, the horrors. Because something told him that the memory of Samantha next to him, in all her beauty, was the last memory he’d have of her. The memory started in a car. The windows provided no view, just a fine fog. He was in the front seat, hands on the wheel. He didn’t seem to be steering. Hathaway was confused. He didn’t recall this memory. Sure, he had gotten in a car many times. But he had never gotten in an accident. He began contemplating the significance of the car. W''hat does it mean? Is this some kind of symbolism? Am I on the winding road of life, sitting still, just waiting to arrive at our destination even though I’m not getting any closer?'' The windows provided no view, just a fine fog. Among all the thoughts in his head, another one arose. It started as a desperate whisper that he barely noticed, but became louder and louder. The voice said one word: “Darling?” Hathaway took it as part of his mind going crazy. ''I’m hearing these voices, they’re calling me, is it Sam? She is waiting for me? I understand now, These dreams, they are-'' “PRENTISS!!!!” The scream came from the passenger seat, followed by a huge feeling of pain and then blackness.

When Hathaway woke up, he was in an emergency room bed. He felt constricted, and felt very numb and nauseous, but not as bad as a few seconds before. Hathaway tried to sit up but was refused by his back. “Sit down, you need the rest,” came a voice next to him. The voice was something he had hoped was coming, but not in the way he heard it- not with a masculine tone. Hathway stared at the wall in front of him. “Is she okay?” The man next to him didn’t speak, but through the silence, Hathaway knew the answer. He choked back a tear. ''Don’t cry. You don’t even know if she did die. Maybe he didn’t hear you.'' “Did sh-” “I remember when I lost my wife.” Hathaway finally found the strength to look at the man next to him, and there he was, sitting in a chair with flowers Hathaway thought were most likely originally for Sam. “Best day of my life,” His cousin Max said. He chuckled. “Sh’was a cheater, didn’t much care for her except for the amount of money in divorce papers between us.” Hathaway always found Max to be a cheerful person before, but the image of Max with a gun to a cashier’s head burned in his mind. Hathaway chuckled. “Never liked your wife. I told you!” They both chuckled, but Hathaway’s ended with a sob. Max reached over and patted Hathaway’s back. “Let it out, buddy.” Even though Max was a bad man, he was a good man.

Part 6: Behold the Hurricane
Hathaway soon arrived in a new dream. It was a beautiful day, maybe 80 something degrees outside. Leaves fell in front of his face. He seemed to be on a winding trail of sidewalk, on a greenbelt. The grass was a healthy shade of green. He started following the trail. The air was a tiny bit humid, so much it made the weather perfect. ''I remember having days like these all the time. Days like these we would always go to the park, where those kids would be messing around by that playground with the broken monkey bars. I remember they always played in the cemetery by there.'' Suddenly, a glimpse of light reflecting off a surface slightly caught his attention. He turned and saw a playground with green monkey bars. Broken down the middle. Then it hit him. He was going to the cemetery. Prentiss came across the giant chain gates. He entered the cemetery. This cemetery was not very dark or evil looking at all: It matched the greenbelt in a way. He wandered through the path, looking for the grave that he was meant to see. Then he saw a gigantic grave with a stone angel above it, unmistakably with the name “Samantha L. Jones-Hathaway” On the front. It was shocking to him- his long lost wife was right in front of him. He fell to his knees.

Hathaway woke up in a blur. This memory was so fuzzy to him, it was as if he had been hit again and knocked unconscious. All Hathaway knew was he was sitting on a rather comfortable bed with stiff sheets. Hathaway patiently waited until he could hear his surroundings. Hathaway got busy gathering verbal evidence. He heard a shuffling in a room over. There were many voices in this place, and it seemed evident he was in a hospital. he decided to eavesdrop on a conversation. Suddenly a conversation started right in front of him. “Doctor, he’s been having major psychological problems,” a female voice said. “He’s been getting drunk, even beating his dog, just because he keeps asking for his recently deceased wife.” “Well sir,” A man, apparently a doctor said. His vision was so blurred Hathaway couldn’t see what was going on. “Looks like we're gonna have to prescribe this medicine for you. You'll have to take two a day, within...” Suddenly Hathaway lost control. He reached forward and wrapped his hands around what seemed to be a person’s throat. “You..can’t… make me… take them!!” a voice screamed. The voice sounded like his, it came burning through HIS throat… but he knew deep inside it wasn’t him. “KEEP HIM DOWN!!!!” A man shouted. Hathaway felt the force of many people pushing him onto his supposed hospital bed. Hathaway was forced down, as he felt his arms clawing at the air. It was as if he had been attacked and his mind invaded by the parasites of the Amazon that possess the forest ants. His actions were not his own. Hathaway suddenly felt a needle go into his arm. Soon he felt his anger fading away, and a sudden need for sleep.

Hathaway woke up back on the train. ''Had those pills helped me forget? How could I forget my own wife dying?'' He wondered. “There’s nothing more to this,” He said aloud. “This has to be the end. It just HAS TO!!!” Hathaway once again pushed forward, not knowing whether he’d come to an end, or he was just endlessly wandering through a train of broken memories and lost regrets.

Part 7: A World Too Tired
He came to a new train car, followed by others, that all were just completely tilted and messed up, created an unbalanced reality. It was as if a massive earthquake had caused the floor to elevate in many places. At the end of the train cars, Nothing but floor remained for almost a mile. As he reached the end, he realized the floor was like a plank- Over a giant gaping hole of nothing. The bottom of the whole contained a blue glow. He looked up to see millions of deformed people, surrounding him like spectators in a stadium. They looked from a platform in the distance, staring to his eyes.Even though the people looked decayed and as if time were horrible to them, Among the million he recognized a few- His father… the man who attacked Samantha at a young age…. and his cousin. The rest were just faces in the crowd. “It’s okay, I’ll jump with you," Came a very familiar sound from his right.       He turned to face Sam, at her old age, standing, alive and alone.        “What is this?” Hathaway asked.         “We’re here.” She said. Two lights next to her flickered, suddenly turning into two apparitions: the 23 year old Sam from the snow memory and the little girl from the beginning of the train.         "We've always been here," The 23 year old Samantha said.         Hathaway then turned to face the little girl.         "You're Sam too, Aren't you?" He asked.         The girl let out a toothy smile. Hathaway couldn't help but smile back.         “Are you ready?” The older Sam asked, and all 3 of the Sams smiled.          "For what?" The old man asked. This didn't make any sense in his mind.          "Don't you see it?" old Sam asked again.          Hathaway looked around himself. ''The faces.. so tense, so staring. So....frightening. As if they were doing time.'' It was then it clicked. ''They are doing their time. This is like a purgatory for their crimes. Somethings they cannot move on from, have not been properly treated for.'' Thats why his dad, Max, and the attacker are here- this is their hell. They cannot move on. “I’m always ready.” He grabbed the older Sam’s hand one more time. If this was death, he knew he’d be ready. All 3 of them then proceeded to jump in the hole, and they slid safely down the side. Right as the blue glow embodied his vision, he knew it all would be okay.

Part 8: These Chains I've Been Hearing For Most of My Life

Hathaway woke up again. He was on the bench that he waited on every day for his train. He felt as if he was back in the real world. His normal train boarded, and he felt like a new man. The conductor came out of the train, and said hello to Hathaway. Hathaway said hello gleefully as he boarded the train. Hathaway went back to his normal spot and sat down, and leaned against the wall. It was then he felt his body go numb, and his heart started beating a little too fast. Prentiss J. Hathaway didn’t even think about it. I’m ready. Hathaway at this moment realized the full truth. The experience he just had was preparing him for death. His wife had helped him move on from his past mistakes he had repressed into his mind. He wouldn’t have to suffer like his family and attacker did. As the life faded from him, the words he had longed for and now understood echoed in his mind… I’m coming, my princess. 