the night was dark and felt thick with humidity. It reminded me of wallowing in molasses. It was the kind of night where your clothes get wet with sweat before you can lock the door behind you. I was already done with it. I wondered how I could have gotten myself into what I considered, probably the worst situation I had been in thus far and with every step I took to help redeem it, it kept getting worse. I was following the dark figure in front of me wondering if there was ever going to be an escape. I mean, I was free to go at any moment but it would come and get me again and I was a slave to a master whose main weapon in its arsenal was consistency. He nagged at me to come and beckoned me until I would eventually come and join up with him again. I hated the dark figure but I had also grown fond of him. The excitement of following him around fed the ever gowing darkness inside of me. The question of, "What will we be doing tonight?" bounced around the corridors of my skull, lighting up parts of my brain. It hit the parts that experience excitement, fear, lust, contempt, joy, disgust and resignation but not always in that order.
That very question was hitting the aggravation button. It was a hot evening and very late. "Where are we going now?", I thought as we turned the corner.
