He ran his hand through his spiky blonde hair, and clambered out of his bed. He looked at his tired reflection in the mirror, and drank a glass of water to cool himself. He rubbed his forehead, trying to remember why he had woken up in the middle of the night again. His hands and face were soaked with sweat, and his duvet was twisted from a bad night's sleep.
It had been in the recent two years that Dark had been waking up constantly in the night. It was effecting his health, and his appearance too. His once handsome face bore heavy dark patches under his eyes, which were permanently half-open from tiredness. It had been effecting him mentally also, becoming very jumpy and edgy, and for some reason he had gained a sharp temper. Sometimes he would sit and cry for no particular reason.
He was awake now, and seizing the opportunity, he went downstairs to check on his bike. It was a beautiful piece of machinery; a piece of technological art. It was in perfect condition, not even a fingerprint on its gleaming chromed mud-guards. It wasn't that he never rode it- he rode it at every chance he could get; zooming through the streets, the rumble of the engine echoing between the walls. Every moment of his spare time he spent working on it- cleaning, polishing, upgrading- all to make the bike run like a dream.
Though he knew every nut and blot of this bike, he only knew one thing about where it came from. It was once his father's, who had used it to escape once after doing something great- or something like that, he believed.
He never knew either of his parents at all. He didn't even know what they looked like- he had no records of them. He had been fostered ever since he was a baby. Nobody would tell him who his parents were, and the only thing he knew for sure was that they were both dead.
One thing about his parents that he was told, was that his mother gave birth to him in secret, but died not long after. His father planned to visit his son, but he never reached him alive. Words came into his head from long ago "I regret to inform you that your father has passed away…"
Ever since then, Dark had been passed from family to family like a disease or an unwanted present. He never had any friends; he always had to move away before he could get to know anyone properly. He was used to being lonely, which explained why he chose to live in such a remote house. He'd shift the curtains back just a little, so he could peep at the people walking by his house. They'd be laughing, talking, skipping, and just as they'd look to his window, he would draw the curtains quickly.
His house was in Kalm, a cosy town, with cobbled streets and grey-bricked houses. His house was alone, the window's curtains were constantly drawn and the door locked for most of the day. He only went out at night, when he wanted to ride his bike alone, or find food. He would walk with his head down and his chin and mouth tucked into his collar.
In this dingy house he ate, slept and lived. He had no job, no money, no food; just the dream that one day he could ride away on his motorbike and escape it all.
He ripped open a sachet of powder with his teeth, and tipped its contents into a mug of boiling water. He huddled in the corner and drank the sludgy soupy substance. Surely his father didn't want this; surely his father didn't resort to stealing food, or living in broken houses. His dad was a fighter; he had proof of that.
Upstairs, under his bed was a great steel sword. It was extremely large and heavy, it must have taken a first-class soldier to wield. It was his father's, he knew that. He was given it when he was born and it had stayed with him ever since. Just thinking about it drew heroic images of his father into his head.
He smiled to himself. Maybe he ought to live up to his father's reputation. Maybe he should have done the kind of things his dad did. No- better!
Mad thoughts dashed through his head. He could run away, he had nothing there to stay for, a crummy house and an unsociable town. He shouldn't waste his life- he should enjoy it. Travel the world, visit new places, try new food and sample new things. It didn't take much thought before he heaved the sword onto the motorbike, bunged some clothes and the only scrap of food he had left into a bag, and took off into the night.
Kalm was a completely different city at night. Whilst in the day it was jolly and peaceful, at night it looked rather grim. The plants staggered up the walls, and the lights from the windows created deformed shadows. The moonlight highlighted every little crevice in the cobbles. Dark failed to notice these things as his surroundings became a blur as he zoomed through the streets.
It wasn't long before he was out of Kalm, and he was speeding through grassy land, the cold biting his face and arms.
He got to a point where he as in the middle of nowhere, the only thing disturbing the perfect horizon were the mountains. The moon was luminous in the sky, and cast mysterious shadows over the mountains. A slight breeze snaked its way through the grass, and then his hair.
He skidded to a halt, tapped the kickstand, and twisted the key. There was absolute silence. He lay down in the soft grass, gazing up at the moon until his eyes became heavy and the world became darkness.