III

The last dying rays of the summer sun faded into twilight as a black robed figure emerged from the darkened confines of an ancient, gothic-revival home. Soft footsteps eating the distance with their swinging stride. Quickly, the figure moved down the empty street, as if possesed of an unusual urgency. Without slowing, she rounded a corner, the fabric of her robes billowing out in her haste. This fleetness of motion was rare for her; the product of a troubled mind. Thoughshe didn't realize it, she was running from something within herself, something only just begining to awaken. It was an emotional thing, one with which she was ill-equipped to deal, and her reaction was to outrun it, when, were it anything other than emotion, she would have stood firm in the face of it and tackled it head-on. But emotions were too fragile, too real, too easily shattered and too difficult to conceal... She crossed the next street without looking, never hearing the squeal of panicked braking, nor the angry words of the car's driver. She blindly continued on, down the street, around the next corner, on and on... Miles away, deep into the night, her steps finally slowed, and she began to ask herself 'what was she trying to escape?'... Feelings, was her first thought, emotions too delicate, to real. And why would she run from that? she wondered, then answered her own question. 'Beacause they are dangerous' she whispered aloud, 'because to allow myself to feel, would make everything too real...' For so long, she'd held it all inside, only rarely allowing the dam to break, and to let herself feel anything now,would release a disasterous flood. The damning tide of emotion denied would likely sweep her away. Why me? she wondered, why wouldm it have to be me that he waited for? What could possibly set me apart from the rest? What makes me so different? Suddenly exhausted beyond measure, she collapsed upon the stump of a tree alongside the worn path she'd found herself walking. If anyone coiuld see her clearly, they'd be surprised by the old, wise eyes peering at the world from such a young face. If one could see inside her soul, they'd be taken aback by the pain that lives there, the anger, the sadness; yet compelled to stay perhaps, by the kindness, the compassion waiting to be spent. Would they be horrified by the scars inside that never fully heal? Or would they pity her for the hell she'd been through? Sorting through her thoughts, she tried to come to terms with the realization that this time, the emotions couldn't be locked safely away... Once again, she began to move, more slowly this time, lost in thoght. How was she to handle this new development? How could she repair the breach in the walls? How could she make this all go away? How could she make this less real, less dangerous? Could she dissapear? Would that even help? Or should she try to face it, and risk the depth of the damage it could do? Taking a deep breath, she turned back, toward home, whatever "home" meant... She wouldn't run, she decided, but she wouldn't succumb to this either... she'd fight it... yes, fight it... refuse to let it win... refuse to allow even the possibility of being hurt from entering her life agian... Calmed now, she quickened her pace, and walked, almost jauntily back the way she'd come...back thru the park, through the endless streets that were becoming crowded now... back to the empty house that she just couldn't quite call home...