The Unknown or The search for freedom in the lonliest of nights...

He sat quietly in the chair, the dim light of the candle on the far side of the room illuminating a portion of his face.  In the background played a Cure song.  He listened to it for a moment before losing interest and turning slightly to look out the window, the storm unrelenting on the trees there.  Lightning flashed, the room thrown into a sudden white aura before fading back to the darkness.  Motionless he sat, his eyes centered on an invisible scene in the distance, beyond the window, beyond his world.  Sad, but not knowing why, he closed his eyes and tried to listen to the music again.  The candled sputtered and went out, throwing the room into black.  Another flash of lightning, this time closer.  You've got to get out of here.  You'll waste away...  You're trapped, caged... The voices called to him, whispers of the storm and music.  He sighed and rolled over, nodding slightly in agreement.  What good is the world when you can't see it?  What chance do you have of surviving here? "Nothing..."  He muttered.  That's right...  Nothing...  Leave this place, search the darkness of the unknown for the answer...  The voices drifted, becoming distorted and then faded.  He sighed deeply again and pulled a half empty bottle of Captain Morgan's from his hidden spot in the lining of the chair.  He unscrewed the bottle and held it for a moment.  Wrinkling his nose at the strong smell he took a sip.  The warm trail left him restless and uneasy with being there.  He took another drink and set it between his leg and the arm of the chair.  Fumbling around in the darkness he found his pack of cigarettes and lit one.  Minutes passed quickly as he sat drinking in the dark.  From outside his door he heard his parents arguing as they went to their room.  He shook his head and finished the bottle before snubbing out the cigarette.  1

Standing up, he stretched, another flash of lightning showing his thin pale body.  At seventeen Lain was, as the doctor put it, severely under weight.  "Bullshit..."  He said to himself at the remembrance of that discussion.  The only person he trusted to feed him correctly was himself.  When his body told him to eat, he ate, otherwise, he would go for days without a meal.  He walked to his closet and pulled out a black dufflebag.  He began putting his important things into it before he knew what he was doing.  Thinking for a moment, he went back to the closet and pulled out a small lock box.  He quickly turned the combination lock to the numbers and opened it, pulling out a large wad of bills, mostly twenties.  He'd been saving for a car, but now he had a feeling he would have a better chance of putting it to good use.  Scouring his room a few times over, he found his various knives and weapons.  Trained since he was seven in martial arts and the use of the weapons, he felt better carrying them.  His parents had thought that the training would make him more of a people person.  Instead he would go, sometimes for hours and train alone in the woods behind his house.  Lain looked around his room and opened his bedroom door.  The slight creak jarred him and he stood motionless, listening for sounds that he had been heard.  Smiling he slid down the stair banister, he'd learned earlier that year that the stairs were noisy but, with a bit of thinking, could be avoided.  He climbed off the banister and looked up the stairs for a moment, arguing with himself before turning and walking to the front door.  Pulling an umbrella from the rack he opened the door and walked onto the dark patio.  With a last glance up at his darkened window, he set off into the night.2

He walked along the road, small streams of water falling from the umbrella.  You are free...  Where are you going to go?  "I don't know...  New Orleans maybe, or maybe California, or even better, Washington.  I hear it rains all the time there."  Ah...  How do you feel?  Scared?  He smiled.  "No...  Just anxious to get out of this town..."  We know...  The voices said gently.  We know...  The voices subsided.  He dropped the umbrella to his side and lifted his head to the sky, his eyes closed.  He shivered as the rain fell upon his face and onto his lips.  Without thinking he licked the rain drops away, a strange taste.  The taste of freedom...  Putting the umbrella back up, he nodded.  "I know...  It's a new feeling..."  He walked on, his black clothing making him look like a solid shadow as he passed through the city park.  "When will I find my self?  I've traveled to the top.  I've seen all these roads before, I don't know when to stop. I've left my past behind me, looking for answers in the rain. A road of street lamps guide me, easing my subtle pains..."  He said softly.  Suddenly he recognized the words.  A verse of a poem that he'd written long ago.  "So...  It becomes true..."  Shivering, he laughed and walked faster, freedom was just over the next hill.  Hiding around the next corner, lurking under the train bridges and running through the forests of the night.  He would follow of course.  Freedom was his at last...3