C.15

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It was a dark place.

He couldn't move.

Memories of hallways, shadows, betrayal.

Matthew's rage was uncontrollable. For all that was against him, he tore it asunder.

Ropes, blindfolds, locks, broken and shattered.

He ran through endless streets, twisting and turning, a man possessed.

Under the street lamps, past the headlights, then finally, by instinct, into the woods.

Hatred took him whole as he saw his destination, and charged to its termination.

And that was when he woke up.

- id est -

Matthew was resting in between two trees, lounging on a cot that swung to and fro. It was a breezy morning, and despite the sting of mosquito bites along his ankles and arms, he felt rather comfortable. The winds were cool and fresh, the sunlight was warm and sprinkled, and the crackle of trees gave him a calm in his mind. It came to the point that he forgot all about that dream, that night, and all other terrible things before that.

Besides, he had more important things to attend to. Abrenica was most likely waiting for him inside. He wanted to see her again. That was, after all, why he had come all this way. To be with the love of his life, the one who was there with him since the start.

He swung himself off the cot, walking through the dead farm and towards the old house, running his good hand along the tall weeds as he sang to himself of a love's revival. Half a prayer, half a demand, but he knew that he wouldn't be answered, not by God, not by the Devil.

That meant he would have to answer himself.

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