1 Chapter One, Part One

The dawn of an artificial sun shines as a steady beam to chase darkness while it roams in a quiet room. Flickering over a horizon of dust particles and metal gleams, the light reveals the sources of littered electronic buzzes and vibrations from rusted vents as they captivate the ears of uneasy visitors. The smooth, sleek silvers of delicately placed tools for demise rest organized unlike anything else in the room, their positions made to assure those who believe violence is always the path to disaster.

My steady eyes over the polished weaponry begin to pulse under the heavy light that glares back, the rest of the room filled with ominous shadows that barely swallow the dim flashes of power lights on hardware. I wrap my fingers around the cold, glossed wooden edge of a table that circles around the center of the room. In deep thought, I contemplate in silence as my head scatters through the choices of the next companion that will be loyal at my side. The room is buried in silence, but behind my shifting hazel eyes, I'm only just beginning to comprehend what lies in front of me. A row of pistols and rifles weigh the table under my grip, and yet the legs below the wooden surface stand firm. I can feel myself sinking to the burdens that these haunting instruments hold as I lift the power of life and death, hidden inside the deep void of a barrel, within the palm of my hand.

I flip the handgun over my palm, scanning the other side as if it didn't have the menacing lure of death masked under its shine. Observing it closely, I nod in the belief that my choice was the best one for the situation at hand. Ignoring the cries of regret echoing in my own dim room of dust, I take a glance up to a figure across from me, standing over the table himself. While his dark curly hair serves as a cloud over the gloss below him, he leans below the light above and wrestles his own best interests as he scans over the weaponry in amusement.

His soft, careful glances imitating the movements of his thoughts keep me breathing steady. I've known him all my life, a childhood friend without a secret unshared, and he's still standing with me after all the bullets we've taken from reality. I'm not sure what's keeping him from leaving me to the dust hovering behind him. After what we've seen, I'm surprised we're still giving each other glances in the same room. He must think I'm the last person he can trust. If he didn't, he'd never let me see the light beaming in this room.

Holstering the weight of my gun to hang at my hip, I step back from the dim arsenal and turn to scavenge a cure for my boredom as I wait for him to decide. I drift my eyes over the sable posters of an earlier music era. Smooth wooden shelves stretch from one picture to another, each holding its own assortment of cluttered metal pieces to unfinished machines. Passing by the clustered decorations in curiosity, my eyes set on a small land drone the size of a fist, two small wheels outstretched from its spherical head. I gently reach for the drone and observe it to pass the time. The round core of the device provides a shell for its lifeless camera of an eye. Hints of white symmetrically grip over the rim of its center like a crosshair. Looking into the black dot, I assume the machine hasn't been powered on in months. Our small, enjoyable adventures have passed ever since our names were whispered under the eager breaths of authority.

Our lives have only ever gotten worse through consistent incidents of blame and violence. Some say we brought this on ourselves -- and they're probably right. We're picking out handguns preparing for another hunt when we can't even go outside without being watched. We're on thin ice from where we stand in society, and we're cracking the surface with moments like these.

Just looking at the holster under my wrist brings a heavy flood of flashbacks to drown my perception. With every silent breath I take, another detail of a gruesome image comes crawling back from the corners of my head. Our names are flashed across billboards, our heads spiraling with bullets, our bodies hiding in lush forests to keep ourselves from being hunted. We lurked under swaying branches for months -- so long that no one wanted to take a single step into the frosted soil again.

Clues are dusted with crystals of frozen droplets. The color of a thick crimson runs wild in a field of snow. The concept of trust whisked away with the new winter breeze. We're not hunting for people this time, but every path we take under the frosted trees is one we've taken before. We didn't walk those trails for the scenery. Every step forward was one away from a body shot to the snow, and every breath was always feared to be the last. We were prey in a land made for predators, and even our closest friends turned into strangers as we feared we'd be hunted next. With all these reminders keeping me grounded, I cut off the flood of memories with an old motto my friend once told me. The reality of trust is the hardest one to grasp.

I put down the drone to rest it with the dust on the shelf. Continuing my walk along the walls of the dim room, my consistent overthinking has brought me a magazine full of questions. I shouldn't bring the past back to the table he stands over, but he should've seen it coming. We've never sent bullets to cut the wind for fun.

"What made you think this was a good idea?" I ask him, my voice scratching with fear. He takes a glance up at me, watching my drifting eyes, and focuses again on his options.

"We're going hunting and spending some time together, what is there to worry about?" he asks. My irritation already rises to hold my breath in place.

"You don't remember what we went through after firing off one of these things? The people we hurt, the horrors we met?" I ask him, walking closer to the light again.

"I don't know what's going through your head, Xavier, but whatever it is, I'd put it to rest," he says, running his fingers over a cold barrel. I lean over the table with him, my stare as strong as the metal.

"This is a bad idea, Alex. You know we're still not on the good side of society. One of these drones may not be yours -- someone might be watching us," I try to break his shell. He stands up straight, picking up a gun in the process.

"You're paranoid, dude. I really suggest you chill out because what you're saying isn't making any sense," he says. I stand across from him, my jaw dropped when discovering the reality he's lost himself in.

"Are you forgetting everything we've done?" I ask him, frozen in shock. He slides his own weapon into his holster, lingering on his next response.

"No, I'm not," he bites the inside of his cheek, "I'm sure as hell trying, though. I mean, really, what should we do? We can't pretend it never happened, but there's no reason to keep living in your memories. Besides, it's not like I'll ever be able to wipe those images out of my head."

"We brought this on ourselves," I growl. "As much as I used to enjoy our hunting back before our lives crumbled, doing it again will never comfort me the same way."

"You accepted this invitation, you wanted to do this. Why are you trying to back out now?" he crosses his arms.

"I can't get away from the idea that we're still next on the hunting list. We're tricking ourselves into believing we're in control," I shake my head. He reaches out to me, trying to ground me by gripping my shoulders.

"That was months ago. The people have simmered down on the gossip, and they're leaving the body to rot. There is no evidence left to find, there are no fights left to be started. We're safe now, Xavier. The only thing that's going to be hunted is the animal we find roaming the forests outside," he assures me. He pats my shoulder, confident that I'm on this train of innocence. He walks out of the room, gesturing that I follow him, and moves his way out to the sliding glass doors of his basement where the outskirts of the forest rest ahead.

"I don't know about this," I tell him, cowering to the bright sun shining through the glass.

"I'll be right here with you the whole time. You need some fresh air to clear your head," he unlocks the door and slides it open, the breeze pushing his hair to the side. "We're no longer prey in these forests. We can stand up for ourselves again, yeah?"

I take in a deep breath, the cold air already brushing against my warm skin. I step out onto the grass, watching Alex as he shuts the door behind him, leading a pathway into the one place that can't be navigated with marks over stumps.

We're entering the home of a ruthless beast that uses reality as his weapon, tormenting his prey with the constant reminder that they're never in control. When that demon crawls into your head, he grows his forest in your thoughts. He swarms your head even after you're no longer stepping in snow, and he haunts every morning with his whispers as your alarm.

No one will ever be able to hunt this creature down, because his tracks are covered with a blanket of false emotion. He roams as your own personal nightmare, your inner demon, your greatest rival.

Today, he plans to hunt me down for good. My reality is in his hands, and I'm fighting for my life with every breath. I can feel his hunger in my chest. I can hear his snarling calls echo through the trees in front of me. As I enter the forests ahead, I fear I may never feel the morning dawn warm my body again.

Let the hunt begin.