[[[[ R3CL4iM ]]]]
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//! R3CL4iM is NOT R3DR0S3.

Once you've done this test, you will be met with an email address. Contact it.

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Let the boy look around. The boy chooses to look up.
Once the boy looked up, he was stunned by the memories he started remembering.
On the day he was born, he was told that he wasn't going to make it in this world.
Kids always bully him, the boy thinks to himself. No one wants to play with him. No one trusted his word.

The boy starts to cry to himself. "Was daddy right when he said that when I was born...?"
Okay, the boy says, feeling torn.

The gun he is wielding is really heavy. He can barely point it.
He can't hold it up very well. His mother calls, he hasn't had anything to eat.
Extreme anxiety flows through the boy, he doesn't know where to put the gun.

Right now, everything is a blur for the boy. He chucks the gun under the bed.
Inside the kitchen was his mother, smoking her cigarette. "Can I please go back to my room, I'm not hungry!" he pled.
Glaring at his mother as he waits for an answer, the boy throws up. The mother tells him to go upstairs to his room.
He throws up once again inside his room. He finds the gun under the bed, and does his absolute best to point it at his own head. He feels doom.
There is a knock on his door, his mother asking him if he is feeling okay. The boy tears up as this is the first time she has ever asked if he is okay. It's too late. The boys sweaty hand loses grip. A gunshot is heard inside the room. His mother rushes in, to a sight she will never forget. The boy accidentally shot the ceiling above him as he lost grip on the gun. His mother falls to her knees and hugs her boy. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm here. Let me clean this up, just going to get the broom."

????????????????????????????@protonmail.ch

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