Tracing the path he had followed for many countless ages, a tired lone adolescent crept towards the hollow den he had associated as home. It?s position was deep in a eerie foggy forest, silenced completely from years of his passing and the disruptions he had brought with him, usually containing the scent of aged crimson droplets and a notable amount of flesh on his thin, nimble fingers.

     The young assassin?s path spanned over a hour?s walk, but never did he slow his pace from the steady, sleek stalk, not until he reached the dark frame of a secluded house, his Master's house. His solemn scarlet eyes pulled him inside just as a prick from the grey clouds above collided with a strand of hair, tugging at it before sliding down the rim of his pale nose. His body yearned to enter the one space he could call his own, leading him soon to slink cautiously through the dim, desolate hall on feet as light as mist.

     Still damp and stale from the beginning of the massive storm and hunching as if a creeper, he paused in front of a metallic door and was quiet. Outside, a solo crack of thunder loomed over the trees and was gone as quickly as it came with no other in tail. A single finger first, than his hand reached and grasped the frigid knob, twisting abruptly before releasing, a dull clicking noise signaling an allowed entry from his temperamental door. He slunk through the gaping opening, in low spirits, and kneeled down as quietly as the pattering rain outside.

     His quiet gaze of crystalline ice fell silent on the steel wall just ahead of himself, and his foot shifted into a more appealing position, causing the metal tiles below to secrete a solitary scratching utter of displeasure from his harsh boots. The stillness in the room didn?t bother him at all, nothing really did. Cracked and dry fluids smeared across the stiff barrier locked him into memories, all in which were fading by each passing day and the taste of the bloody air only drove him deeper in.

     He had not one human desirable enough to inspire recollections, and the cold living space had never brought upon anything but a less favorable situation; forever it had mesmerized him, and lured him in day by day, only to leave him in the midst of solitude. The putrid scent of long forsaken blood and bones and the ones he had murdered endlessly invaded his nostrils and psyche, and every time it settled on the tip of his tongue, he had to stifle the hideous urge to retch.

     One could lose themselves in that room if they weren?t cautious; it was made to do exactly so. The silence was just enough to run you from your mind, and make you lose control of your morals before condemning you to a life of hysteria and bloodlust. The emptiness itself would seize your conscience and entangle it with internal instincts that drove one to kill for survival, making insanity a possibility for anyone, and normality a choice of no one.

     The boy emitted a hoarse whisper, that barely creased the demonic air, as he snaked his arms around his knees and crept his deranged and cold eyes to the one and only exit.

     ?What I do to stay sane.?

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