Days dragged into weeks. Different roads leading to different towns, one after the other, scenery in-between bleeding together, staining it to look all the same. He never stayed too long in one place, just burned up as much energy as he could then moved on, just as he’d always done. Drink, fight, fuck, rinse and repeat, his tried and tested methods to be empty inside.
It was different this time; he couldn’t calm the storm inside.
He’d tried drowning in rivers of whiskey and burying himself in the fake warmth of countless easily forgotten women, even pain wasn’t working and he’d tried copious amounts of both taking it and inflicting it with neither giving him the desired effect.
His options were diminishing rapidly.
He’d not gone to the bar tonight, it was pointless. Three out of three, night after night in town after town and still she would come to float in the shadows. Every time he shut his eyes he lost his control and she fought her way forward to invade his dreams.
He was tired, and not just from lack of sleep.
He was sitting by the window just watching the sounds and sights of the night from the window of the latest in a long line of dingy, cold motel rooms but he wasn’t alone. She was there. He tried to replay images in his mind of nameless woman in forgotten places, but his mind was a traitor, weak and unprepared for the strength that was needed to block her and all the demons she was haunting him with. She kept fighting her way to the forefront with an ease that made him angry. He was still awake yet she was there, no longer waiting for him to fall with exhaustion.
He was weak.
He sprinted away from the walls that were closing in on him, slamming the door in annoyance on his way out. The sound of the wood as it smashed home and shook in its frame a pointless effect but giving him some satisfaction nonetheless.
Exhausted and frustrated he watched through different eyes as the snow began to fall. Found himself remembering how she looked that fateful day. Remembered her smile and how she threw her light with pinpoint accuracy into his darkness right from the very beginning.
Tiny slip of a girl, it should have been no contest. She was always winning it just took him a while to notice but when he finally had, he’d run, got as far away as he could yet it seemed even with distance she held enough power to bring him to his knees.
She was strong.
She was the only one who ever looked and saw it all, never having fear and only ever giving trust. Saw his deepest, darkest secrets and saw nothing to hold against him. Saw humanity, honour and compassion long since filed away.
She saw deep under the mask, knew the truth behind the lie and kept him wrapped in her heart.
He’d been chained and bound and tried to break free but he’d been his own jailer and he’d given her the key.
He was still chained.
No matter what he did or where he went, she still held the key.
He continued to watch the snow fall on to the winters abused and worn out landscape and cover it with its makeshift bandage. The earth beneath his feet would soon be wrapped in a clean and fresh white blanket, the seasons own finale, and a worthy ending before the curtain would fall and then rise to begin again.
He woke up alone and for the first time ever he didn’t like it. His curtain had fallen with no worthy ending. He’d yanked it down, running; the only finale he could see and instead of feeling any new beginning all he felt was alone.