Truth

He'd heard somewhere, as a child, that the truth would set him free. He would have liked to have believed that, liked to have thought that if he was good enough, searched hard enough, a door would open and the light would stream through, and he'd be free of the pain and the fear.

He knew better now, of course. Now, he knew what truth was, and he knew that now, he was no more free than when he started. He knew that now, perhaps, he was even less so.

The truth was that not even the best thieves could make a living off of stealing alone, not without the Guild--not against the Guild--and sometimes you had to make concessions to get by. The truth was that sometimes you had to steal the condoms you couldn't afford to buy, because it was your job to have them and if you didn't do your job you didn't get paid. The truth was that sometimes you had to lie on your stomach and take what was given because there wasn't anyone around to let you let you lie on your back and give what they'd take, and you had to smile about it afterwards, hood your eyes like always.

The truth was that sometimes in the dead of night you curled up into the smallest ball and let the fires inside ravage you, and you prayed to a God you didn't believe in to just make it go away, just this time make the hurt stop, and every time you opened your eyes there was less of the bed left.

The truth was that you'd been running for a long time, and nothing felt like it used to, nothing felt at all, and you realized abruptly one day that you were born a street rat and doomed, always, to return to the streets and that all the happiness and joy you'd ever known had been stolen and fleeting.

The truth was that not even his name was his own, and the things he'd learned so gradually over the years could be pleasurable instead of painful had only become the tools by which he got by, the tools by which he survived.

The truth was he was down to his last pack of cigarettes and the frightening burn within him was flaring during the day, now, and that the smiles and the laughs he shared with the desperate ladies in the night were just as fake as the solace they sought from him. The truth was that he was scared out of his mind and at his wit's end and starting to eye the frayed knot at the bottom of the rope.

The truth had never done anything to him but put him in a cage.