There was a figure in the dark. Though I couldn't see distinct features, I could tell it was a boy and a scrawny one at that. I could hear him panting and I tried to catch up to him but he kept running. The way he was running reminded me of the night when Shadow tried to kill me, and how I had run, without thoughts in my head and only fear. I wondered what was wrong with this boy, the thought of where I was or how I got to that dark place not even occuring to me. I called after him my voice slicing through the darkness and silence like a newly sharpened knife. "Wait! Hold on!" I cried and I heard his anguished panting as he pushed himself harder and ran off into the dark where I couldn't reach him. After I lost him I stopped, not knowing what to do but I followed my instincts and back tracted my steps. I knew I just had this feeling I had to figure out what had happened to the boy, why was he running? Nevermind I had no business in it and had no real reason for this need to find out what had happened on that blackest of black nights. I continued to follow the path I had run after the boy backwards until I saw a faint glow of light. I walked closer to it and saw a disheveled house with one illuminating candlestick glowing from the interior of the building. I was compelled to enter the house, no matter the reason why. I just had to. So I entered and was shocked at the disaster of the inside. Furniture, which there wasn't much of, was tossed over on the floor, one chair leg broken off, ends splintered. There were a few holes bashed into the walls of the hallway as I walked down it, looking to have been created by fists bashing in the walls with fury. As I continued walking through the house, passing a bedroom in the same condition as the sitting room, it seemed as though I could hear echos of the shouts that must have burst from the walls an hour before. "Ye dirty bastard, come hea!" one shouted, in a man's furious tones. "Get away! Mom, where are ye? Help! I hate ye!! Get away from me! NO!" this was another voice, younger pleading in the rage that came from pure hatred and fury. These voices echoed through the house, me beginning to get a feeling of foreboding. I knew what must have taken place here and looking down at the floor I saw spots of fresh blood dripped on the floor, then a knife a little farther back. At the end of the hallway there was one last doorway. I stopped then and fear filled me for no apparent reason. But still, believing in my spine, I walked through. It was a normal washroom, this room not as broken as the rest of the house. There was a mirror, as I turned towards it I saw in the mirror an unfamiliar face, that couldn't truly be a face at all. Half of it was bloody and cut, unrecognizable to me and I realized the blood was from my face dripping on the floor of the bathroom as it had already through the house. As I stood there, in the house I didn't know with voices of anger and fear echoing around me louder and louder, I screamed...

I was still screaming as Race shook me awake, and I opened my eyes. I was disoriented, the pictures of the silouette of the terrified boy, the house, the destruction and the face that wasn't a face all still flashing in front of my eyes. Then those unwanted visions cleared and I was in bed in the room Medda let Race and me occupy with Race holding me worried and anxious.

"Its ok, yer alright. I'm hea," he said holding me and rocking back and forth as one would comfort a crying baby.

My face was damp, and I realized that I must have cried in my sleep. "Race?" still disoriented I asked for him. Then remembering I felt my face to make sure it still was whole and mine. It was and relief flowed through me, the dream had been that real.

"Yea, yea, it's me," he said comforting me. "Are ye ok? Was it a nightmare?"

"I guess," I said coming back to reality more. "I don want te think about it"

"Ok, as long as yer alright. Geez, ye scared de shit outta me," he said continuing to hold on to me, for which I was greatful. My limbs were weak and the nightmare, for it had been a nightmare, haunted me even with the cheerful sun filtering through the gauzy curtians.

"Just hold me, ok?"

"I think I can handle dat," he said and did just that.