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BLAKE

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BLAKE

His hand was warm and surprisingly soft. It brought me comfort and ease, both of which were what I needed during that night of twists and turns. All that lead me to be guided by a nameless man through sacred land. My stomach felt uneasy. It was both the alcohol and the life shattering news that was thrown into my system, all at once. The night was moving fast, much faster than I could handle.

He let go of my hand and came into a halt.

We had been walking for about ten minutes before this, and I didn't take a moment to even study my surroundings. The entire time, we walked in silence, and I was swallowed by my thoughts. Everything felt quick. I couldn't keep up.

Finally, I looked up, scanning what was before me.

The land we stood upon remained the same; with dead plants and dry deserts. But before us was a building, one I hadn't seen back at the warehouse and couldn't spot from the naked eye. Either that, or I wasn't looking hard enough. The building looked a lot like the warehouse. It was built of brick and looked run down from the outside. The windows were broken, the perimeter was trashed, and it appeared to be abandoned. But unlike the warehouse, it wasn't being put to use. It looked fragile, like one gust of air would knock it down.

I turned to the stranger that brought me to this abandoned place. "What is this place?"

He didn't answer me. Since I was slightly buzzed still, it agitated me to watch him walk ahead of me and into the entrance, which was a weary door that had chipped wood and scratches all about it. Huffing out, I followed after him, with both curiosity and a desire to learn more, seek on.

Considering my state of mind and body, it didn't occur to me that being led off in the middle of nowhere by an absolute stranger could be slightly worrisome. Maybe it was the alcohol making me foolish, but I had a feeling of trust in him. He didn't lie to me, and I almost knew for certain he never would.

The inside looked just as deteriorated as the outside did. There was a lot of dust floating around, and the rooms were almost empty. A piece of furniture here and there, some trash, sure, but nothing significant. Which led me back to my initial question—what was this place?

By the time I fought out of my thoughts, the stranger was going up the staircase. Hurrying to follow him, the steps creaked beneath my feet. It made me cringe. I underestimated that staircase, and overestimated by ability to climb them. It was at least seven to eight flights high, and I made it through about five before nearly tripling and falling backwards. I caught myself on the railing. Barely.

He turned around. "Do you need me to carry you?"

That question sounded like a joke almost, with a hint of genuine concern in the mix. If he asked me that while sober, the answer obviously would have been no.

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