Prisoner

The Boy

Chapter 4

I felt like a part of the future, a part of something bigger then myself. I was a piece of the elaborate puzzle crafted of steel and glass and concrete. This city was mine for the taking.

I walked quickly, my worn sneakers thudding softly on the crowded sidewalk as I wove through people.

Was I lost? Of course I was. Did it matter? No.

I wondered if people got lost on purpose. If they just soaked up whatever was around them, and let themselves be whisked away by the feeling of discovery. I smiled, breathing in the thick scent of the city. If I could, I thought, I would get lost every single day.

I could feel Silas, calm and peaceful, enjoying the new sights. I could almost see him drinking in everything with his eyes.

"This is amazing. Just...look." I said, craning my neck to follow the buildings up, up, up into the sky.

I am, trust me. He said, a boyish tone creeping into his voice. I could feel his smile, a warmth that made my fingers tingle. It was almost as if he was really there, standing next to me, ready to dive right into whatever was coming our way next.

I slowed my pace, a memory surfacing in my mind. I wrestled mentally--I had no need for my past to interrupt me as I took my first steps in this new world. But I was no match. I shut my eyes, remembering, feeling. It was like trying to love the very thing you hated most.

Within the prison, boredom reigned daily. Each morning, when I woke up, the same white walls surrounded me. The same floor turned my feet to ice. The same rusty faucet that leaked onto the bathroom floor. Nothing ever changed. I would spend house upon hours, just sitting on my bed, staring into space. It was my only pastime. Silas was my only light in a sea of darkness. He kept my sanity for me.

Silas, I had once asked, what do you look like? Are you handsome? Do you have freckles? My young, twisted mind had always wondered--how could someone be so close, so connected to someone, yet never know what they looked like? Well, he had answered, I like to think of myself as handsome. I have seven freckles. I counted for you, he'd laughed. Then he'd paused, wondering how to answer my initial question. I look however you want me to. At that, I sighed, confused by his riddle. Would I ever know what he looked like?

I opened my eyes again, wondering why that memory had come back so suddenly. I exhaled, speeding up once again, my bag thumping against my side as I did.

Forget that place, Ren. It's gone now. You left it well behind.

The sun glinted across the glass of the bustling city, sending piercing bits of sun into my eyes. I looked up at the incredible mix of pinks and purples and oranges. The sky was bidding the sun goodnight, whispering bright promises of tomorrow in its ear.

Tearing my gaze away from the beauty, I searched for a place to stay the night. I wouldn't be able to afford any expensive hotels. I simply needed a room, a roof over my head to keep the chill at bay.

"Any ideas, Sil?" I said quietly, trying not to attract any attention from passerby.

No, not really, he sighed. I ran a hand through my tangled hair, feeling anxiety slowly creep it's way into my mind. I picked up the pace, only getting nowhere faster. I started to run, praying, hoping, I would find someplace. My mind was overreacting, but it was believable enough.

Through the blur of colour, I saw the corner at the last second. I skidded to a stop, but not fast enough. I clipped the stone, sending me down onto the concrete. With a small groan, I picked myself up, brushing off my scraped hands. As I lifted my head, a torn sign caught my attention.

'AFFORDABLE MOTEL. COME STOP BY AND SEE!' I went over to the faded sign, looking at the picture underneath the bold letters. It was a small place, and by the looks of it, not too far from where I stood. I marvelled at my luck. From it's place on the stone wall, the sign seemed to brighten slightly, as if pleased it was doing its job.

I read the instructions, relaying them to Silas in case I should forget. The directions led me into a deeper, darker part of the city. It was the part that got less sun, less people, less money. Chipped brick buildings. The occasional glaring smoker from a shady doorway. I turned onto Surrey Street, breathing a sigh of relief as I saw the neon sign flickering the word 'Motel'. It wasn't anything special, nestled between an old office building and a used clothing store. It was made out of rustic wood, with petite windows. The lights were on inside. From what I could see, no one was parked in the parking lot.

I jogged over, running my hands over my chilled arms. I pulled open the door, cringing at the loud creaking sound it made. I stepped into the lobby. There was generally nothing there except for a long table a man sat behind. Behind him was a handmade list of prices. I walked over, scanning the list. I'd stay for two nights. After that, I'd figure out how to get my own place, a job, maybe.

"You here for a room?" He asked gruffly. The man was old, with white hair that was thinner on the top of his head then anywhere else. He had thick, unruly eyebrows and thin, wrinkled lips that where moulded into a frown.

"Yes," I nodded. I fished a wad of bills from my bag, carefully counting out the amount, not wanting to spend more then I had to. He silently handed me a key and pointed to a hall of to the side with a craggily finger. Following his silent direction, I entered the dingy hall with the dim light. There were only three doors. My key worked in the first one, so I opened the door. I was greeted by a musty smell. The carpet was worn and dirty, and the sheets on the small bed were wrinkled. There was a crack in the window. I sat on the bed, putting my bag on the ground. My eyelids were heavy with fatigue. I pulled back the sheets, crawling inside. I gently out my head down on the pillow, closing my eyes.

At first, all I could smell was cinnamon. Then warm colours came in to view. A small hum of chatter sat in the air. Chairs and tables were scattered around the room. Most of them were filled. I recognized this place, realizing it was the same place I had seen in my previous dream. I turned, searching for the name I'd recently seen. It had been partly obscured. Maybe if I saw it again--

"Over here." Somehow, the voice was perfectly clear, even through the chatter of the small coffee shop. I turned towards the voice. It was the boy again. This time, he looked more disheveled, as if he'd recently woken up from a nightmare. He was nestled in the corner, away from most of the costumers.

"Listen, you need to find me. And quickly. I'm not the kind of guy who has a lot of time on his hands at the moment," he said bitterly. He raised his eyes to look me in the face.

"Look, come here. Ask for Corvo, they'll show you to me. We need to meet." I looked at him as he spoke, questions burning on my tongue.

His face suddenly darkened. Grew sadder.

"Hurry," he said, "or they'll get us both."