[Usually he runs, but tonight - exhausted yet restless - he wanders. He should be relieved by the news that he might go home - that he might escape the demented nightmare into which he had fallen some months ago. But what good is it to trade one nightmare for another? His heart clenches as if seized by a cold fist when he remembers what it is that he must return to: the endless stress of having to always look over his shoulder and hope that his tracks remain covered, of having to always submit to the demands of she who ruined his life, she from whom he could not escape. Here he is trapped, and there he is trapped. Is one jailer better than another?
These are the thoughts through which Connor wades as he happens upon the familiar figure at the lake's edge. He tries to turn on the quick sarcasm behind which he usually hides, but it comes halfheartedly at best.]
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These are the thoughts through which Connor wades as he happens upon the familiar figure at the lake's edge. He tries to turn on the quick sarcasm behind which he usually hides, but it comes halfheartedly at best.]
Are you talking to yourself now?