His Many Masks *The Boy fan fiction*

Chapter One

"We wear 'masks' not to fit in, but to protect our vulnerable, true selves."
- Ida Collinger 
                                            ~

My fingers twitched in the cold. I had only been walking for about two hours, but it felt like four.
Find a place to get warm, find a place to get warm.

Those words weren't foreign in my mind. I had been wandering about from town to town for three months now. Food, water, warmth, and a fresh change of clothes were things I looked forward to like a child on Christmas Day.

The dry, desolate field I had been walking through suddenly led me to the edge of a deep wood. A feeling of dread bubbled in the pit of my stomach, should I go in there? I stood still for a moment, however the chilling wind answered my question. At least the trees would block some of the harsh gusts.

Once I stepped inside the deep wall of brush, the trees seemed darker, and the fog glooming there seemed heavier. My shoes crunched old dried leaves that had departed from their home long ago. Like me.
The question of fate popped in my head, would I be like those leaves eventually? I shook my head; no, there's no way that I'd let myself give up and die like that. I was a fighter.

With every step I took farther into the woods, the more dark and twisty it became. I hugged myself for warmth, I was desperate for somewhere; anywhere to go rest. I decided then that I'd have to stay the night with someone tonight, as it was too cold to travel any longer.

Luckily, the fog slowly began to clear in the distance, revealing a clearing in the brush. I could make out a path way. A smile spread across my face as I hurried through the clearing. You're almost there! My mind was racing with excitement. I ran down the path as fast as I could hoping to run into a house. Nothing. Instead, I was met with a large black iron gate. The gate led to another winding path disappearing in more foliage behind it. I blew a tuft off hair out of my eyes. The gate was old, and almost seemed too rusted and fragile to use. I started to reach my hands up to open it, but before I could pull it open I heard faint noises from the distance. I instinctively dove into a bush to hide. Hiding was something I did a lot.

Based on my past.

The last thing I wanted, was to run into someone dangerous. I watched in curiousness as a woman limped to the gate, unlatched it, opened it forcibly, and limped down the path disappearing in the thick sheet of fog. She seemed dirty, and hurt.

Too scared and shocked to go after her, I sat in the bush puzzled. Who was that woman? Did she live beyond the gate? Was I seeing things? After a few minutes of sitting and wondering, the cold found me, and forced me to keep moving. The woman stayed in my head, where did she come from?

I stood up, and walked through the now open gate. I proceeded with caution, aware that more people could possibly show up along the path. Where did that woman live? I asked myself aloud hoping to find a house among the woods. I stayed along the tree line, walking slowly and always watching around me. I never liked to come in contact with people until I was on their door step. It made it easier to get what I needed.

The path wound around a corner and stretched past a few clearings leaving the area fairly open in itself.

A pickup truck came into view. I ducked into the brush of the trees until I was sure that there wasn't anyone in or near the truck.

I then took it upon myself to explore it. It was covered with branches and dirt. The tires were flat leaving it immobile. I frowned at it. Such a waste of a good car. I looked past the truck and a small part of a stone building was visible past the thick walls of the woods around me.