PROLOGUE

"Come on, you son of a bitch! Show yourself!" Rory yelled at the TV, aggressively pushing buttons on his XBOX controller. He was playing his favorite video game: Call Of Duty. "Come on, come on, come on..." He pleaded as he moved his character in and out of shipment containers. But as he rounded the corner of the next container he was sniped in the head.

"FUCK!" Rory yelled loudly, slamming his controller down onto the couch cushion beside him. The cord connecting it to the big, black, gamer headphones he wore over his ears, came loose.

Rory tossed his head back and growled in frustration.

He'd been playing COD since it was originally released. It was aggravating then, and was still aggravating now, even at 27-years-old. COD was best played with the volume and gunfire blaringly loud, though his next door and downstairs neighbors would disagree. After a few noise complaints, he resigned to his headphones. They were great, but now, to his neighbors, he just sounded like a psycho who was raging randomly in the complete silence.

Fuck it.

He decided that he'd had enough for the night and picked back up the controller. He shut the game off and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table in front of him. The pack felt light in his hand, and sure enough, when he slid it open, there was only one left.

He growled again.

Of coarse.

He smoked more than usual while playing video games- especially this one. And while one cigarette would do him for now, waking up in the morning without one was out of the question.

Might as well get more, he thought, checking the time on his watch.

11:40. Good, it's still open.

A walk might do me some good anyway.

Rory reached in his front pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped open the weather app.

12 degrees. Not bad.

Canada's weather was always changing, sometimes by the minute, especially Alberta's. But, luckily, August weather was fairly consistent.

He took the abandoned end of his headphone cord, pushed it into the aux port at the bottom and tapped open his music app. Heavy metal began playing in his ears as he slid the phone back into his pocket. He grabbed his black zip-up hoodie, not for warmth, but for comfort. Plus, it matched the black t shirt and jeans he was already wearing, and the black boots he lazily slid on, never bothering to tie them. He headed out the door, locking it behind him. Three flights of stairs later and he was outside.

With closed eyes, he looked up and took a deep breath. The air was crisp and fresh, he welcomed it.

The little box he lived in seemed so unbelievably stuffy at times, Rory thought he was going to suffocate. Not literally, but mentally. He was so use to the house he grew up in, out of town, and in the open. It was a small, but at least you had the luxury of just walking out the front door and being free. Which Rory had done many, many, many, times.

Rory's current place, thirty feet above ground, felt like a trap. And he was caged. The rent was cheap, however, it also meant that the building itself was just that. Cheap. The way his life was currently, was so far from how he would like it to be.

But isn't everyone's? He reasoned with himself, shrugging mentally.

He headed down the street, lighting up his last smoke.

Rory didn't have a car. That made winter a bitch, but in the summer, on a nice night like this one, he didn't mind walking. The closest store that he could buy his cigarettes at, was decently far from his apartment building. But being born in his small town had its rare advantages; like how Rory knew exactly where to cut through the high school grounds, and exactly which backroads to take. A typical thirty-minute trip on the sidewalk only took him fifteen minutes, tops. He'd timed himself taking different routes, finding the shortest one possible.

The heavy metal music he was listening to put him in a fairly good mood. He was really getting into it, even doing some air-drumming.

Rory approached the local high school soccer field and hopped the fence easily. He cut directly across, bobbing his head along with the beat, puffing on his smoke.

Instead of a fence lining the far side of the schoolgrounds, there was a forest. The forest had a small gravel path throughout that Rory used. It took him behind the more residential areas so he didn't have to use the sidewalk at any point. However, the trail ends when it intersects with the only street that Rory couldn't avoid. He didn't mind this one, though. It was on the furthest East side of town and had no sidewalk, houses, or even streetlights, but was still paved.

There was something so tranquil about the nighttime to him. No traffic and no people, just emptiness.

As the path came to an end and that last street came into view, Rory's music suddenly cut off; replaced by a loud, harsh ringtone. It wasn't a typical generic tone- it was the one he had assigned specifically to his Mother. He did this so he would know who was calling and didn't need to look before ignoring it.

Right now?

Really? He thought, harshly.

Why is she even calling this late?

He remembered the last conversation they had; it wasn't pleasant. Actually, the last dozen conversations with her hadn't been pleasant. It was always strenuous for them to communicate. He would say she was difficult, but she'd disagree and say that he was being the difficult one. They were always at odds and nearly every phone call left him in a foul mood.

I'll call her back tomorrow.

Maybe.

He easily hit the 'decline' button on the side of the phone, through the fabric of his jeans. An action he'd done countless times.

Rory's music returned to it's previous, uninterrupted thumping as he stepped off the gravel path and onto the paved street. He checked for traffic, left and right, but the street was empty.

Perfect.

He threw the butt of his cigarette down to the pavement and crushed it with the toe of his boot before continuing on his way. After a short trek down the street, the lights of the store came into view.

It was one of those convenience stores, strategically placed on the very edge of every small town. It's meant to be as easy as possible for the typical never-been-here or road-trip-pit-stop, people to find. It's for those who want to gas up and get out as quick as possible.

And who could blame them for not wanting to stick around? This town is trash, Rory thought.

It's one of those tiny towns, that if you blink, you'd miss it. The number of people who drive through it daily, without stopping for a second look, is more than the number of people who actually live there. A town where the local's constantly talk about leaving, but no one ever, actually does. It's a redneck town, with more dirt and gravel roads than actual paved and numbered streets. It's such a pathetic pin-drop on a map, that if the major highway didn't run through the way it does, you wouldn't even know it existed. It's the 'nowhere', stuck between two 'somewheres'.

Rory contemplated the love-hate, but mostly hate relationship he had with his hometown as he approached the storefront. When he entered, Paul, the ever-cheerful cashier who had run the store for years, smiled at him. It was the kind of honest and familiar smile that you could only get from small business owners, who had decades-worth of repeat customers.

Okay, maybe the small town's not all bad, Rory admitted.

Without pausing the music, he slid the oversized headphones down, off his ears to let them hang around his neck. He headed straight for the counter.

"Hey! How's it going there, Rory?" Paul asked.

Rory knew exactly how the coming conversation would go, because they'd had it probably a hundred times, by now.

"Oh, not bad, not bad," Rory replied, nodding slightly. As usual, he was 'not bad, not bad'. "And how 'bout yourself, there?" he asked in return.

"I'm as well as I can be." Paul replied. As usual, he was 'as well as he could be'. "Just came for a pack, did ya?"

"You betcha." Rory replied, wallet already pulled from his back pocket, handing over a twenty.

Paul pulled out Rory's typical brand and size of cigarettes from the secure shelf behind him, "Here you are, my good sir." he said and set the box on the counter.

Rory reached for the box but Paul kept his gripped on it. He looked at Rory, suddenly stern, "Do you have I.D.?"

What?

Is he serious?

They stared at each other for a beat.

Then Paul started chuckling "Nah, I'm just fucking with you, kiddo! I gotcha though! He he!" He let go of the pack and took the twenty dollars.

Rory laughed slightly, "Ah, practicing your comedy, I see."

"Hey, gotta keep myself entertained somehow," Paul shrugged, still chuckling, obviously amused with himself. He handed Rory back some change, without needing to say how much. "Have yourself a good night, there, Rory. See you again soon, eh?"

"You know it." Rory said as he headed toward the door.

"Stay outta trouble!" Paul added

"I'll try." Rory called back as he walked out.

Rory walked 'round to the side of the store and stood over the garbage bin that was permanently stationed there. He mindlessly unwrapped his pack of cigarettes, pulling out the foil and disposing of the ever-ironic 'smoking kills' cards. He stuck a smoke between his lips, lit it up and put the pack in his sweater pocket, then slid his headphones back over his ears, this time also pulling his hood up and overtop of them.

He stepped back onto the street and checked for traffic again as he did.

Still empty.

Nice.

Sometimes these were the best moments in the world to him. The night. The dark. Alone.

Some people would say that Rory was a recluse, or a hermit and a loner.

But he would say that he doesn't give a fuck what other people think.

What's wrong with some peace and fucking quiet?

Public school taught him one fundamental thing, aside from academics: people suck.

When he finally graduated and was no longer forced to live in hell, Rory began distancing himself from anyone who disrupted his peace. Which ended up being pretty much everyone. He'd been on his own ever since.

It's easier that way, he told himself, more people, more problems.

That even included his own mom, who was the only family he had.

Rory turned up the volume of his music to drown out his thoughts. The chaotic tempo and loud vocals mixed with the high from the nicotine and he began to relax.

He was coming up the road to where he would need to turn off, onto the path. His music cut off and he was abruptly pulled from his temporary bliss by the sound of his Mom's ringtone, blasting in his ears.

Again?!

For fuck sakes woman!

Rory checked his watch.

12:00. On the dot.

What could she possibly want?

Maybe something's wrong, his annoyance replaced by guilt.

Fine, he sighed, giving in.

Rory took his phone from his pocket and the smoke from his mouth. The light from the phone was almost blinding as the word 'MOM' flashed on-screen.

He tapped 'accept' when...

SMACK!

Everything went black.

Rory awoke to the sensation of pressure all around his torso and head.

The pressure was subtle at first but became more intense the more he came to. He tried to move his body to escape it but couldn't.

He tried to look around but could only open his eyes just enough to see pavement, and blood, before they closed again.

He was face-down on the road.

Lights began flashing through his eyelids. Red and blue, red, and blue. Over and over again, but he heard no siren.

"Help..." He choked out; his voice sounded gargled. He tasted blood.

He struggled to move again, but this time the pressure was quickly replaced by the most excruciating pain.

It was suddenly surging through his entire body, every nerve ending, and muscle fiber was on fire with pure agony.

"HELP!" He called out, but his voice was even more muddled than before. The taste of blood was becoming overwhelming.

Suddenly, his body began to move on its own. It was being pulled backwards by something at his feet. His chest and face were being scraped raw by the rough pavement. The sirenless lights still flashing through his closed eyelids.

The roughness gave way to the softness of grass, and Rory felt some relief on his shredded skin, but only slightly.

He tried to call out again but this time he couldn't even manage a single word. Blood pooled in his mouth, and he began choking on it. He coughed, sending it sputtering and running down the side of his face.

Then, the pain in his body slowly began to ease, replaced by a gentle warmth. Growing warmer and warmer, it spread throughout his body. Rory watched the red and blue flashing lights slowly fade away, along with the pain, until he was entirely soothed. In fact, he had never felt so at peace in his life.