Zane stared out the window of his small studio apartment, the remnants of a life filled with pain and loss swirling in his thoughts like the autumn leaves dancing outside. Each leaf fell like a memory, a reminder of the past that he couldn’t seem to escape. At 30, he felt like a ghost wandering through a world that had never quite accepted him. It all started when he was just fifteen. The day he ran away from home was etched in his mind, a vivid flash of his mother’s rage—her voice, a sharp blade that cut through the air; her hands, throwing rocks not only at him, but at his spirit. Zane remembered walking along the roadside, his bike by his side, feeling both liberated and terrified in the middle of the night. Life as he knew it was over, but a classmate named Jake had picked him up, offering him a ride home. In that moment, Zane felt a flicker of hope. Yet, hope was fleeting. The world had a cruel sense of timing. In 2005, only a few months after Zane’s long-time girlfriend, Layl...