"Another cold morning," he muttered, his breath fogging the air. No matter how many heaters they installed, the chill always found its way through. "It may be fitting," he thought. "Comfort wasn't meant for people like him." 

"Three more years, only three more years." It was a mantra at this point, a number slowly growing closer. Was he ready, though? Did he ever deserve to leave? 

Shaking himself from the thought, he got up and started walking down the long corridor. The walls were rough, cold to the touch, and streaked with a faint feeling of water. This place could be underground for all he knew. They now used white LED lights throughout the complex, which messed up what time of day you thought it was, but that was just another part of being here. 

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Hunter sighed again. He walked up to the heavy door that led to the much larger room and stopped. He waited for the buzzing sound before the door slid out of the way. 

He stood there for a few moments before walking in, but on his first step, something happened. Did he start to feel warmth? "Yes," he thought as it sparked in his chest, a foreign sensation making him freeze. 

The warmth steadily increased until it seared through him like molten iron. His body convulsed, the flames tearing through him. All he could see were white flames. His eyes burned with smoke as his screams echoed back at him from the stone walls. 

His skin crackled, and a horrible smell of burning flesh engulfed him. He fell to the ground hard, barely feeling the floor below him. He heard screaming, laughing, and running, but only one thought entered his mind. 

"I deserved this. I had always deserved this." 

And yet, as he felt the fire consumed him, some small, defiant part of him whispered: 

"Not like this."