I have to scream. The energy of life courses through my veins, making me want to punch the wall. I can feel the rage building deep, deep down inside me. I kick the wall and feel a slight relief from the screaming demon which fills me. I pull my arm back and punch the wall. Before I can stop myself I’m slamming my fist full force over and over into the brick wall. I look down at my bloody knuckles and wonder when the pain will start. Then I laugh, for the pain has already started. It may not be my fist which aches, but my shattered soul lies in so many pieces that I am at a loss as to how to begin putting my life together once again.

That’s when I realize that I’m tired. Not that I need to sleep or am about to pass out. I’m tired of how things are going. It seems as if my life is slipping through my fingers and there is nothing that I can do about it! The more that I try to direct my life the more that my life seems to escape my grasp.

Tears well up behind my eyes, but I don’t allow myself the release. I clench my eyes shut tight and refuse to allow myself to feel anything but anger. And pain. Always pain. It is my only companion. Nothing is as loyal as pain, it is always with me. I scream, feeling my neck tense up, as a howl escapes me. It turns into a whelp as tears stream down my cheeks. I curse myself for not being stronger.

I punch the wall again, this time leaving a bloody trail as my knuckles explode against the brick wall. I sit there, starring at my knuckles and forearm, feeling the warm blood ooze out of my wounds. I leap to my feet and run to my door. I fling my door open and run to the front door. I come across a window beside my door, which I kicked through. The tiny shards stick in my shin. I grit my teeth and refuse to acknowledge the pain. I allow it to fester and rot deep down inside me, mutating into an almagam of suffering and self-loathing.

I run out my front door, allowing the cold night rain sweep over my battered and broken body. I feel a sharp sting as the rain water enters into my wounded arm and leg. Yet, I press on. I had been surpressing my feelings for far to long, what would a few more hours do? For when I looked at my life I saw it in how many hours I had to live. My problems had been multiplying and turning on me. I refused to let them drag me down, I just kept on moving past them. But, you can only escape your problems for a little while before they come to collect.

I look up to see that I’m running through the woods. I duck past branches, feeling them swoop overhead. I feel a sharp tug at my feet, I look down to see that it is caught on an exposed root. My face hits the ground, my chest landing on a sharp rock. I remove my foot from the root’s grasp and roll over. My shirt exposed ripped and a small trail of blood was leaking out from my chest. Instictavly, I put my hand on my chest and pressed tight against myself. A strong surge of pain reaches up and almost overwhelms me. Blackness tries to cloud my vision and mind, but I push it away. Just like I do everything else. I slowly got to my feet and started running again.

The wind raged past me, allowing me to hear nothing save its fearsome howl. Moonlight lights my path amid this forest, allowing me to see a little way in front of me. The rain was making my shirt stick to my body, allowing myself to see all my cuts and bruises. This only made me want to run faster, as if I could escape my pain. I look behind me to see the Hounds of my own personal Hell following me.

I come across a clearing in the forest. Once I’m out from underneath the trees I start to feel the rain’s full force. I stop and look up, holding my hands out to feel the rain dab at each of my fingertips. A smile crosses my face as I feel that I’ve outrun all my problems. Elated joy runs over me as I think that I withstood my pain, but it wouldn’t last. An old companion would visit me soon.

Pain, it hits me like a freight train, knocking me to the ground. I pull myself to my knees. So there I kneel out in the raining woods. I close my eyes and try to pretend that the water which runs past my cheeks is rain. The illusion doesn’t last, they never do.

I fall to the ground, clutching at the dirt, mumbling to myself. Is this how I am to die? Alone in the woods? I roll up into the fetal position and begin to shiver. Cold and soaked, I lay there in the rain. Lips turning blue as hypothermia sets in. I look over and see my cut hand in the mud. I pull it out and slip my shirt off. I quickly wrap my wounded hand up in my damp T-shirt. The rain runs down my body, before long I can no longer feel the tempreture, and the weight of the rain barely registers.

I look down and notice for the first time that some of the branches had cut me and that I had been bleeding for a while. Dizzness fills my head as the blood drips out of my body, leaving me feeling like a lifeless rag doll. My breath materlizes in front of me, I notice that it seems to becoming less and less often. A dead weight prevents my lungs from working, making it take extreme amounts of concentration and energy to keep them going.

Gentle footsteps approach me. I look up to see an angel of mercy. She is standing there, her long hair wet from the rain. She leans over me, and I see her face. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, filled with caring and concern. She looks at my hand and at my weary face. Using all my energy, I look up at her. I become mesmerized as I stare deeply into her eyes.

“What’s your name?” She asks her gentle voice soothing my torn body.

“Stephen,” I respond weakly. I didn’t realize that my voice had become so frail. She pushes my wet hair out of my eyes with her hand. She extends her hand down towards me.

I try to grab her hand and pull myself up, but she is only an illusion, and I fall on the ground. I curse myself for thinking that any woman would come out into the woods and help me. I take a few deep breaths and try to pull myself together only to fail. My body refuses to obey my commands.

I crave release from this pain! I don’t care if it is sex, drugs, booze, or whatever. But I can’t hide forever, and that’s what haunts me. The fact that there is no end to the pain, that I’m stuck here for the rest of my life. As short as they may be. I close my eyes and sing to myself. It’s an old song that my mother used to sing to me. It brings me a small sense of security and love.