1. Folie á Deux LegacyGeneration 3Prologue Don’t rag on the title page. It’s half ten and I have school tomorrow.

2. “You’ve got to keep going, Hazen.” And I’ve been thinking on that all night. It’s hard not to sulk, but she’s right. I’m going to keep going because it’s all I know how to do. We Folie á Deuxs live through a long struggle, but we live through it. We have to keep moving along. After all, nothing annoys Wright more than a moving target.

3. If there’s one thing Hazen knew, it was to keep going. Forest after forest, tree after tree. He ate protein bars and drank plenty of water. Soon, something had to come up. An abandoned summer camp, a comfy pile of dead bodies… perhaps that was a bit too morbid.

4. As Hazen paced past what he was sure was the same patch of trees he had passed a hundred times before, his mind flashed back into what he liked to call “the world’s loneliest cinema”, where he was the only customer and the only films showing where memories of regret and times gone by.

5. What if he didn’t want to keep going? What if he just wanted to rot in this stupid forest he’d found himself in? What if he never got out of said stupid forest? What if… What was the use.

6. Hazen was just going to keep going until he couldn’t go anymore. And he knew it. He wanted to sit on the floor and bawl like a baby in the midst of a tantrum, but he didn’t fancy his ass being chewed off by a bear.

7. Finally, what seemed like a godsend chanced upon him. A house. But friend or foe? That was the million dollar, life-on-the-line question. The house was surrounded by a plethora of wild flowers it was the closest thing to home that Hazen had seen for weeks. Maybe a friendly old hermit lived there – or an eccentric millionaire. Whoever they were, they must have food!

8. Hazen strolled up to a nearby strawberry plant. It was thriving, seemingly unattended. Tentatively, he leant forward and plucked a succulent-looking fruit from the plant and placed it in his mouth. An explosion of flavour he hadn’t tasted in weeks! Compared to dried food and energy drinks, a single wild strawberry was like rediscovering the wheel.

9. Straightening up, Hazen rested his clammy hands on his hips and gazed up at the cabin in front of him. It didn’t look particularly well lived-in. “Well, hello there.” Hazen smiled, trying and failing to put on a Texan accent, “You got a purty roof.”