This Is

Prologue - This is...

The water collected in a small puddle on the hard wood floor, despite the small plastic tub he had laid there previously. The way in which the boat swished back and forth, back and forth, only helped to spread it around.

Harlan, despite himself, only sighed. He felt as though the boat was a metaphor for how he felt as of now - tired and worn out, not able to truly keep the weather outside, but still forced to trudge on. He knew he was being dramatic, but how could he be anything else? He buried his face deeper into the soft, warm pillow.

Since the time he had gotten on the boat to now, the rain had not once lightened. He wondered if it would be like this once he arrived in America, as well. Finally, after some consideration, he begrudgingly got up from the safe haven known as a bed, and walked into the small bathroom to get a towel. He was not surprised, when he walked back into the main room, at the icicles hanging from the ceiling or the thin layer of ice covering the ceiling. Harlan smiled for a moment, but stopped. "Thanks, Hunter," he whispered, and began cleaning up the water still on the floor.

Yes, he had quite quite the strange partner. Hunter had shown up, or at least had started being active about 4 years ago. Things rattling, objects being thrown, sudden changes in temperature, whispers in the night... The creature was like Harlan's own personal poltergeist. Despite its sometimes helpful nature, he wished it would just go away. Hunter was why his life went completely downhill.

Now three people were dead, Harlan was (basically) banished to America by his family, and most people he knew were currently trying to forget he existed. It was not a very pleasant time in his life. He had a small hope that his life in New York, with a new family of course, would be better, but he also felt that hope was pointless, considering his past experiences. Even now, he hesitated going outside of his room to get something to eat, for fear of the mischief Hunter might cause.

The liquid all mopped up, he grabbed the container on the floor, and dumped it out in the bathroom, then put it away. Looking at the time, he decided to ignore the rumbling of his stomach and just go to bed. "You know, it might be too late to say this, but I really hope that all this time you haven't been watching me change," he grumbled to Hunter(with the assumption that it could even hear him complain,) taking off the black t-shirt he had been wearing. Once in some more comfortable clothes, he laid down in the warm, welcoming bed. There was no more dripping for the rest of the night.

When he woke up the next morning, he could still hear the pitter patter of the rain, and the sickening sound of waves sloshing against the white painted hull. He sat up, and yawned the sleepiness away, sticking his legs over the bed. The cold floor felt pleasant against his feet. He stepped over to the tiny, round window, the only thing visible being a dull grey. His eyes strained to see past the fog, but it seemed useless. He wondered if the person steering the boat could see anything. Just as he was thinking that, the wall began bulging. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, but it gave out, revealing sharp rocks, water spilling out. After that, he remembered nothing.

He groaned, pain spreading through his leg like lightning. He finally opened his eyes and looked down at his limb. The sight of the thick, red liquid made him dizzy. Saltwater splashed against him, then drained through the rocks. The stinging motivated him to get up. He limped up the shore, away from the burning debris. He tried not to look back. Somehow, looking at the rocky shore and the thick, green forest above, he guessed that they had not arrived at the small fishing town they had been heading to.