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I was only eleven when I met Lucifer.
Now, I know you might be thinking, how come I've got to meet the devil himself? Well, he was in disguise.
My brother and I were a fan of watching than reading. . . Call it lazy, but my mind works better with the actions I see rather than what words my eyes skim. I don't know, it just works like that, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to read.
There is this one moment in my life where I was home all alone. My mother was out to buy some goods, and my father was still at work. My brother, on the other hand, just got out of the house and hasn't come back for straight thirty minutes. I wasn't worried at all; in fact, I am more pleased to see him not around because that way, I can do anything I want without him running his mouth like he's m
