Prologue

Somethings in life people will never be able to understand. That's the biggest difference between fiction and reality. A great work of fiction is judged by how neatly things fall into place by the end. In real life, you remain as confused by the end as you had been in the beginning. All that changes with age is how well you learn to fake it. And "It" may include any number of things- sanity, love, happiness. Anything.

And one such thing that he would never be able to fully understand, Gray had become embroiled in owing to circumstances beyond his control.

He coughed, pushing himself on elbows and spat out the brine he had accidently swallowed. He was drenched to the bone. The sun burned against his naked torso and with some effort he dragged himself across the sandy shore, away from the sea. He would have preffered to make into the shade of the woods he could spy just a few meters ahead, but his limbs were dead with fatigue. After casting one last assessing look around Gray slumped unconscious on the sand. It hadn't been enough to tell him where he was but he had a feeling that "here" was somwhere very far away from home.