Path Through Glass

The scarlet liquid disappeared down his throat; he gulped it down as if it was his very own lifeblood. Alex sighed, throwing the empty bottle against the wall, it shattered into a thousand shards of glass, sparkling so beautiful, as did his love when he fell into nothingness. He looked at that large pile of glass that had built up over the year, and then looked around his scarce apartment. There were four blankets on the ground with an old pillow, a small table, a chair, and a cabinet. The cabinet that held his release from this world he despised ever so much; the cabinet that contained the mind numbing liquid that had held him out through the last year.

He walked over to that cabinet, his bare feet being shredded from the glass that covered the floor, blood covering much of the shards. He pulled back the door and grabbed another bottle of his “medicine”. He laid back on the floor, leaning against the pile of the glass, it cut into his back, only adding to his many scars.
His weak pale hand reached and tried to open it, but he failed. He would give a scream, so primal and searching. He brought it to his mouth and bit hard on the mouth of the bottle, finally it broke, glass cutting at his tongue and gums. He spit out the glass and drained the bottle in a bittersweet moment. His eyes went clouded, as the room spun. He passed out into sleep, his only true haven.

His past tormented him, coming alive in his dreams. He remembered what had driven him to this life; it was a bittersweet memory. He remembered his true love, the only one who ever truly made him feel whole. He had only gotten to experience the wonderful feelings for hours, and then it was taken him way with a sharp reprieve.

Alex looked about the room of unwelcome stares; this is what he always received. His spoon dipped into the bowl of stew once more and brought it to his lips sipping it tentatively. He knew one would make a move on him for his food, with out the protection of Hawk, the only friend he had made during this long trip. He was small, the captain had hired him on for his navigation skills. He was paid more than most of them and smaller, this brought unwelcome attention.

But he had found a friend in Hawk, the veteran warrior taking him under his wing and teaching his basic battle skills. The main advantage it had brought him was all the others respected him, and would not make a move on Alex while he was present. But when Hawk was gone they quickly turned back on the boy.

A man moved towards him, a knife being drawn. The man leaned down against the table, holding the dagger casually. “Boy how bout you give me the rest of that?” the words spoken with a slight edge.

Alex sighed and looked up, “Sir, I am hungry and would like all my food this day. Now will you please leave me be?” The man went to grab the man Alex by the collar. He then screamed pulling back his hand a throwing dagger now through it. A dark black cloaked figure was behind the man, a dagger at his neck.

“Tako, I suggest you leave young Alex alone, or you might find your self much more badly injured then that small wound.” Tako knew that he was stronger then the man, and possibly elbow him in the stomach, but he also knew that if he tried he would have a dozen fatal wounds before he moved to complete the motion. He sighed and stepped away and moved to the healer to get his hand fixed.

“Cant help but getting your self in trouble can you boy?” he said the words in a slight comical manner as he sat on the bench across from Alex, hand shooting out grabbing a piece of bread and bringing it to his mouth taking a bite, this happening before Alex had time to protest. But he was used to such humor from Hawk.

“I do not look for trouble, it merely finds me,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

And I am always the one who must get you out of it!” Hawk said with a laugh. Pulling an ale skin from his belt and taking a long swig, he offered it to Alex who refused the offer. “You know you should loosen up once in awhile,” Hawk snorted laughing.

Alex chuckled,” And perhaps I will someday, though surely not as loose as you,” he emphasized the word loose. And was thanked with a light smack on the side of the head and a laugh.

Hawk held up his hands laughing,” Well perhaps I am a bit how do you say, busy. But I do not let it distract me from my work now do I?” he said knowing the boy would leave it alone there.

“What about that lass in Paiville? You caught up with the caravan two hours later!” laughed Alex.

“You can not finish your business quickly! You have to take your time, and if you do so maybe you will be popular with the ladies someday, though its unlikely!” Hawk smirked under the hood and looked heartily. Alex would give a scowl and walk off towards his tent. Hawk smiled at the boy’s anger, watching him as he walked away, not averting his eyes until he was out of sight. He shook his head; he would have to be keep an eye on that one.

He woke up hours, maybe days later. Time was irrelevant to him these days, as was everything else. He sighed standing up, grabbing his ragged cloak off of the chair and put it about him. He went back to the cabinet, opening one of the doors and grabbing a roll of parchment and shoved it into one of the inner pockets of the cloak, the only one remaining anyway. He then opened the door and set out into the cold snowy street.

The cold bit at his many wounds on his feet, but he ignored it. Knowing that the faster he got to his destination, the faster he would be free from pain once again. Like a shadow in the night, he walked through the streets. A ragged poor man, invisible in a noble city like this, as were all the other beggars, even those who’s frozen corpses lay in the ditches.

He finally had reached his destination and he became a little more eager, opening the door wide and walking in, some of the patrons of the tavern looked at him in wonder. But most ignored him like every one else, just thinking him a beggar.

William Shatterbroch watched as the familiar figure approached him, smiling somewhat, but frowning on the inside. William owned a tavern, but captained a ship most of the time, leaving his wife to run the bar. Alex was an old friend, a young boy who was the son of a quite well known navigator, and he had surely surpassed his father years ago. But all pretenses of friendship had ended when he returned from an adventure a noble lord had hired him for. He did not know what happened, but it saddened him seeing a young one with so much potential being lost like this.

Alex walked to the bar standing in front of will, he pulled the parchment out of his cloak and set it on the table. “A map of the Straight of Dae’lous,” he said in a monotone voice. William would give a sigh and pull put a canvas sack and fill it with several bottles of alcohol. He pulled out a smaller sack and filled this with food, he handed them both over. Alex snatched them up instantly and was out the door, leaving William with a sad visage.

He sighed, as he walked down the street, remembering his night with Hawk. What had really started all of this, it was not a bad memory. Nor was it a happy one. As he walked, he Alex let his mind slip back into past remembering that night.

Alex strode into his tent angrily, though not sure why. The littlest things could anger him when it came to Hawk. He sighed and lit a few small candles, he was tired so he would at least try to fall asleep. Even though the anger that was pent up inside of him was fuming indeed, he decided that sleep would calm him down easily enough.

He pulls his lightweight azure cloak off folding it over a small fold out table he had, doing the same with his shirt. Usually he would have stopped there, but for some reason it was unusually hot for him tonight. He pulled off his unbuckled belt and then slid his pants down his hips and past his ankles; he kicked off his boots then set the pants on his clothing pile.

He looked down his thin body, he had some muscle but not much of it. He sighed thinking of how sad a warrior he was. Though that was not why he had been hired onto this adventure, but he would still like to be of some use battle wise. He sighed and lay on his few plush blankets and pulled a thin one over his body.

He awoke abruptly as the tent flap opened and a dark figure walked in, but he bit back his starting cry as he recognized the figure. Hawk walked in front of him,” I thought it would be best if I stayed with you tonight, so Tako doesn’t come for you while you’re sleeping,” Alex smiled and nodded his thanks and turned back over.

Suddenly he felt someone lay next to him, he looked back quickly and saw Hawk bare to the waist. He then relaxed, not minding having his good friend lay next to him. His eyes would wander over Hawk’s chest, tanned and muscled, though one would think he was frail and weak if they couldn’t see those corded and battle hardened muscle. He looked over the many scars on his chest, and then looked straight into Hawks eyes, and they just stared unblinkingly into each other eyes for what would seem like hours, lost in an eternal stare, a metaphorical caress.

Alex felt a hand run down his stomach, then gasped, biting back a moan. They then fell into each other’s arms. Limbs entwining with the others, they slowly became not two people but one being. That night rustling came from that tent, and small moans that sounded as if they were being bit back.

Alex woke up, feeling arms around him. He smiled looking to Hawk, suddenly startled. Several drops of blood ran down from Hawk’s eyes, staining his cheeks. Alex cried, tears running down his eyes. As he looked at the lifeless body, content look on Hawks face.

Eyes filled with despair gazed about the landscape, taking in every crevice on the wind-scarred mountain. Those eyes, filled with wisdom, tiredness, but also a sense of adventure that one would be hard pressed to find in someone of his age. He gave a laugh; he was growing old, but still continuing with these adventures. He knew eventually that he would have to give them up, but he would much rather die by the blade of a dagger, then by bitterness of old age.

He had aged well, but still showed signs of age. Streaks of silver hair mixed with his locks of black. His eyes gray and sharp but showed an unnatural wisdom then most. A tanned face worn with battle and adventures, showed a light heartedness that was oh so rare to find on a face such as his.

Brown cloth pants were covered by light black leather leg armor and high black boots that came to his knee. Two belts criss-crossed his waist, one holding various pouches and the other having two daggers on it and several throwing daggers. He wore a gray long sleeve shirt that buttoned up the front, he also wore a black jerkin that had chain mail hidden in the fabric. Black leather arm bracers that were studded covered his arms.

He blinked a few times, the wind biting at his eyes as if sharp knifes. He stood up stretching his battle worn limbs. He strapped his short sword back onto his back, giving a final stretch before entrenching him self in his long black cloak. Pulling the hood to shield his eyes, he walked down the path.

Hawk was not aware, that he would be visiting that spot later again today; and if someone had told him as much; he would of simply laughed and waved them away. Though if he knew what had happened before he died, he would certainly not be regretful.

He had hid behind a persona and a dark exterior most of his life; this was how he truly was. At least in his last moments, he was happy. He sighed, kissing his love’s cheek.

Later that day, he stood at the cliff where Hawk had set only a day earlier. He sighed as he watched the man’s body being carried down the canyon, caressed by the winds, and guided by the mountain. He went to his death.

Alex stumbled into his room, shutting the door. He put the contents of the bar into the cabinet, taking a bottle and piece of bread and cheese back with him to the table. He sat down and pulled the cork off the bottle with his teeth, and drained half of it down. He gobbled down the food like a starved dog.

A blank look was on his face as he stood up from the chair, he was painless, how he loved these moments when he could be utterly oblivious from everything else in this foul world. He grabbed the two canvas sacks, reeling over to his bed, but stumbling and falling, skidding on the floor covered in glass shards. He groaned lightly, but it was just stinging, nothing could truly hurt him when he was like this. He crawled onto the bed, stuffing the pillow into the canvas sack and then stuffing the smaller one into that. This is what his “pillow” was entirely made of. He pulled the plush blankets over himself, the only decent things he had left. And slipped off into oblivion.

He woke up the next morning, looking around, light stinging his eyes. He sighed and stood up, stretching his limbs. Wincing as he walked over the glass to the cabinet and grabbed 3 bottles, and walked over to the window, crawling out of it. Sitting on the roof, looking to the busy streets, the merchants, the noble man, the vagrants, watching as young boys picked from the pockets of the rich. And then those who were caught have their hands cut off by the city guards. It was such a merciless world. It disgusted him to know that he had once been apart of that world.

He lifted the bottle his lips taking a long swig and sighing. “Why did you have to leave me Hawk, you were always there protecting me, you gave me a reason to live, why must you also take it away,” he cried out the words, spitting them as if they were venom eating at his mortal being. He cried for hours, nursing off the bottles as if he were a child and they were his mother feeding him life.

He crawled back into the window, once more oblivious. He fell onto the glass, it cut him, but for some reason this time he felt it, he screamed loudly, rolling on the glass, only causing his skin to be shredded all the more. He crawled trying to escape from it, or himself, everything, whatever was causing him so much pain.

He screamed into the darkness of the night, of his life. His cry piercing the soul and heart, disturbing the most light hearted soul. And all who heard those unearthly screams could only imagine what could cause one as him to be in such pain, only the sound of a dieing soul, a burning spirit. He cried on the floor, he had stopped moving long ago, his blood covered the glass around him, and cuts covered his torso and arms. He still cried, the darkness would no longer embrace him; instead it struck out with reality, and true pain.

He slowly fell into sleep, even in sleep he still screamed, his soul would not let him escape this penance. He woke up in the middle of the night, raged for reasons he didn’t know why. He grabbed the chair and threw it across the room with strength that his frail limbs should not of allowed him. He slammed his face through the table, nose breaking as with a cheek bone, but he cared not, he had transformed his pain into rage.

He ran into the walls slamming into them, crying out in anger to see that they were not broken when he looked up from the floor. So he would again stand and run into them, keeping at this process until the wood splintered and bit into him. He was beyond pain for the days this lasted.

But his rage ran dry soon, and he was left a broken form, in a room of wood and glass. He slowly crawled to the pool of alcohol that was left from the broken bottles. He looked into it, his nose broken and his cheek bone also, making his face look as if it was disfigured. He ran his fingertips lightly over his face, amazed to see it was really him. He wept, a few salty drops of water, like his life falling away, mixed with the crimson alcohol.

He grabbed a long shard of glass and crawled out of his window, looking to the moon, clouds obscuring it only slightly. He cried lightly, “ I can no longer live without you Hawk, I am coming to join you, please don’t hate me for being weak,” he said the words, and then he thrust the glass into his heart. Not screaming this time, but simply letting himself fade into nothingness, fade into the darkness, fading into the night. His life fled him, as did his hope, as did everything.