My four friends.

Surely I jest. Alone in the room speaking to myself. I hear the echo. I can feel my reflection. The windows are covered with plywood. Recycled air and moldy bread. The water tastes old. Rust, or is that the taste of blood in my mouth. My muscles are tight, the walls are falling apart. My knuckles are bear and broken. Dried blood runs on my hands and forearms. I set the pace for my self destruction. My body, the hammer, this room, the anvil, my mind, the steel. I will spend a lifetime to forge a weapon. I will spend a lifetime alone.