.all. /i\ {wAnTeD} (Skylar)

And of course I find myself in an alley.

Those dreaded things that everyone clichés as evil, vile, dirty? What, because they're dark, musky and give a weird vibe? That's no way to judge something. Unfortunately, that's what an alley is.

But that little story of mine I'll save for later.

Back to the point. I'm in an alley. Why, you ask? Well, why don't you find out and we'll both know? I can't quite fathom why I'm here. I promised myself I'd never find myself in this place again. I told myself it would bring back to me too many memories, which was the last thing on my list titled, 'Things Nathaniel Wants.'

I take a look around. It's still the same, after all these years. The old brick walls, long since faded from its usual, subtle maroon, are blanketed with a layer of grime and mold. The small amount of light that filters into the alley illuminates the moisture on the bricks, making them appear to glisten. It gives an aura of sadness, as if the wall was crying. Maybe it is. I don't want to be here, either, and there's no way I'd want to stay here for years on end.

I shudder as again the memories of my past infiltrate my mind. The darkness within the night was overwhelming. Walking into the alley that night felt like walking into a black hole, minus the part with the ripping apart of the ligaments and such. No light penetrated the atramentous veil that night; it's the only thing I remember, the- And I'm rambling again.

I chew on my already-short nails. My hands are lewd, nasty, and they hurt when touched. I bite my nails past the quick; it reminds me that there is worse pain in this world than that. Like a knife to the stomach. Subconsciously, I trace the scar with my fingers, feeling myself flinch when I reach that spot of your stomach that is prone to being tickled. No! I'm not going back there. Not that night. Any night but that one.

My mind sends me back anyways.

I'm back in that alley, very similar to the one I'm currently in. I see the things I saw all those years ago: the boxes and crates piled in the corners, the dirt on the concrete ground. It's slippery with the moisture of the night, and I take care not to slip.

And then I feel the knife dig through me.

The pain is excruciatingly horrid, and I drop to the ground immediately. I writh on the ground, feeling the life literally pour out of my body. It's thick and hot, and I feel it coat my clothes, my skin, the ground. Everything. My small amount of vision, already limited with the presence of night, is receding into a small circle, and then finally all is gone. I can't see anything.

I come back to my reality with a gasp. Why do I do this to myself? It's not like I need to go back there everyday of my life. Which happens often; I'm always lost in the reveries of that place. What I need is to get out of this place.

I turn and begin to walk towards the streets of the Seam. I can already hear the din of conversations, eventually compounding into one large buzz. I smell fresh baked goods from the bakery and frown, knowing I'll never be able to purchase anything from that shop. The sun eventually breaks through the cover of the roofs of the buildings, and I feel it warm my skin. Even though it's cold and snowing, I feel inexplicably warm.

And even warmer when I collide with another person.

Stumbling backwards, I can't find a footing, especially not in these boots. Dang boots; always get me in the worst situations, like this one. My first reaction to keep myself from falling is to grab onto something. And it just so happens that this new stranger is the nearest thing for my hands to grip.

Yup, can it get any worse?