The sun shining on his head, the smell of fresh bread in the air, the breeze coming from the lake by town...
The blood stains on the ground, drying on the stones, the other children screaming, the smell of death... for the first time.
And then his mother, the one who raised him up alone, crying silently while they take him away.
The village elders asking questions, the smell of guilt and (deep inside) that good feeling he couldn't explain.
The feeling of that nose breaking under his knuckles, the warm wet sensation of blood flowing out of the other child's nose on his hand. And then everything fading in the frenzy of blood. The beast in his chest screaming...
Nobody could call his mother that. NOBODY... He's got what he deserved. Period.
Then the light of the woods, the foreign smell of wilderness. Tears, homesickness. The picture of his mother's eyes burning like salt on an open wound, deep in his soul.
Then the tall man with a hood, the forest sounds, his knife, his grin gleaming in the moon light. HIDE, QUICK!
The knife twinkling together with the man's eyes in the night, that other man's blood flowing on the fallen leaves. The smell of death... again.
Damn, he's seen me! RUN... RUN...
Adrenaline, that metallic taste in his throat, his legs hurting... DON'T STOP...RUN...
Then the sudden pain to his back, the smell of the fallen leaves, the black figure over him. DON'T KILL ME... DON'T KILL ME...
The heartbeat pace growing faster and faster, the man's body obscuring the pale night light.
The man's smile. The smell of fear, the beast screaming in his chest... KILL HIM! KILL HIM!
The the man's hand helping him up, feeding him some bread. Smell of a campfire with meat cooking, the sour smell of an old blanket to shield his body from the forest cold.
Then the long walk, the landscape changing. Forests, a river, forest again, then the mountains. The end of their travel.
That place... The House.
The underground tunnels, dug out in the dark cold rock. Smell of mold, sweat and blood.
"FASTER! HARDER!"
The Brother's voice screaming at him. His nose bleeding, his sweat pouring. They were going to make him what he was always destined to be, since the day he was born.
A perfect killing machine...
Ren woke up suddenly, the darkness surrounding and sweetly embracing him. He lingered there, letting the darkness softly wash away the dream from his eyes.
His past was coming back to haunt him, once again...
He got up with a quick movement, picked up his bag and left his nightmare laying on the floor, where it belonged. One more restless night was gone.
Ren Meyer: Running from the past
