Still nothing

He reached out, extending a hand to draw the curtains before him. Pausing for an infinitesimal moment, he inhaled the sweet musty smell it exuded, felt the multitudinous strands of fibre within the dusty cretonne in his hands, heard its soft rustle within his hands.

It felt the same, just as it had done in the innumerable occasions in the past.

But it was gratifying all the same.

The heavy, musty curtains swung slowly to the side as the dark confining windows slowly lifted. A fresh gust of air entered the room, displacing the cool, musty and stale air around him.

He sniffed; it was, among other things, the smell of petrichor, of moisture.

He stood to the side, as the latest breeze brought about a thick mist of rainwater in the small dank room. The mist sank slowly toward the ground, losing the battle to gravity, as its weight brought its efforts to fruitlessness.

As if the room needed more moisture.

He spun back towards the window, drawing it shut with a bang.

Spinning on the spot, he then marched calmly across the room, towards the door.

Something hit him, hard. Then it was gone, just as quickly as it came. He turned back, and again.

What was it? It had been a growing seed of doubt niggling in his mind for sometime now; a thought that had been bothering him for so long he had almost learnt to ignore it; to ignore its occasional sudden appearances in his mind...

It hit him, again, hard; escape!

He had to escape; to leave this place, to go to find...to find...

To find what? What was left out there? Who would still welcome him?

Frustrated, he ripped the curtains open again, and stared out at the quiet, barred and insidious street before him. A place which was his prison, his hell, the last place he wanted to be!

Yet, it was his home, his shelter, his last remaining place...

Torn, he leaped onto the small bed behind him, searching, seeking for the solace of his sheets. He tried to hold it back, but the warm droplets of emotion burst forth from within, uninvited, but inescapable, inevitable; flame on his cold, hard, and jaded exterior. He cried like he never had before, as though the emotion and feeling within him could no longer be contained, or held in. As he sobbed, fear, sadness and indecision left him, as though he were undergoing absolution; catharsis, flooding out of his eyes with his tears.

But just as quickly, anger filled him, expanding within him, taking over his emotions, his mind, and his very soul! Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to suffer? Why was he forced to lose everything?! The rage congealed at the bottom of his skull, blocking all other feelings; stoppering up the access of all other thoughts. He wanted to strike something, someone; lash out; injure; hurt!

He leapt up, running to the door; screaming; banging. He wanted to get out, he NEEDED to get out!

But he couldn't. He kicked, yelled, screeched, but no one came...

Once again, he sat down, in defeat, and in pain, back into the dreary rhythm of life.

The wheel turned, the seconds ticked by, as time passed. What did he care? Time meant nothing to him.

Then, a knock. and another, as the scraping sound of a key entering a lock was heard. The door opened, and a shaft of light entered the room.

A head, followed by a voice..

"Dear, you have visitors..."