Night Ten

Over a span of months, there has been a theme in my blog.  Just a simply expression of appreciation.  Being merely grateful for extra time I was allowed.  As the nights go by, I find myself becoming greedy.  For every night that goes by, I only want more.  Each experience only feeds the desire.

                       

Over the past week, my requiem has been under threat.  I overlooked how dangerous of a game that I play.  A lesson for the future is to never forget.  Yet, I did forget and a rash moment of bravado took me to O'Shea's Pub.  Going in without backup or alerting anyone to my plans.  There was nothing indicting danger.  All I expected was a simple conversation.  In my mind, I could not see it going wrong.  Even if it did, I had faith in my developing disciplines.

In no time at all, I found a shotgun pointed in my face.  This was my critical moment and I failed.  By avoiding the chance I had to walk out.  The rush of power made me want to fight.  Give me a chance to try out the potency of my blood.  Use my strength to subdue both the offence and the man delivering it.  There was never intent to kill.  Sadly, the same could not be said for my attacker. 

My best efforts to stop him left me in extreme pain.  My jaw was broken with the butt of the gun.  Skull cracked under the swing of a bat.  My own knife was stolen and I was stabbed multiple times.  My control faded as my temper flared.  They persisted despite my attempts to avoid hurting them.  

Then, horribly, all became blood, instinct, and thirst.  In my arms Michael died.  The heat of his blood warmed my whole body.  The Kiss was ecstasy but what a price to pay. 

Not long after sheer panic was lighting up my mind.  The background consisted of screaming witnesses.  The foreground was Michael’s frozen expression and glazed over eyes.  My fingers were numb.  Reaching for my phone, I dialled numbers that I knew.  Seeking the help I had required much too late.  Needing to know I wasn’t alone in a word gone mad. 

They came, these Kindred that I called.  Being complete opposites, they were noticeably at odds.  My Lord Scalice and a Merket named Sydney.  My intention became unclear when they confronted each other.  Without understanding, Sydney came between Sonny and I.  The very thing I had asked her not to do.  Yes, she believed she was protecting me.  Only Sonny was as well and he had the bigger picture.  In the end, I allowed him control.  My judgement is often faulty and trust comes slowly.  Calling Sydney had been a mistake.

With the help of Mr. Salvatorre Scalice, the evidence went up in flames.  Yet, what is done is done and not forgotten.  Against all reason, I hoped that was the end of it.  Just another mortal that fell as many do everyday.  My focus turned to the upcoming gathering.  In an effort to procure funds, I began a small endeavour.  Using the gathering to sell lacrima, a substance most prized.  Only until the real estate details I had in the works came to fruition. 

Proudly I set up my display early and watched Kindred drift in.  Tonight’s Elysium was at The Shed Aquarium.  An obvious fish lover, Mr. St. John was presiding.  The first Kindred I saw of the night was Isabelle.  Per usual she fussed over me and called me sweetheart.  At turns I find this both enduring and various degrees of annoying.  Overall I just wish she had the impression I was older than 12.

The first part of the night was for casual conversation.  Seeing some old faces and meeting some new.    There was Parker, who had a great accent, when demanding a strong handshake from me.  After many years away, he was back in Chicago.  When I attempted to figure out his clan I failed to remember Venture.  Again!  My blunder only elicited good humour.  Given time, I trust our paths will cross again. 

The Prince came into my space and I rose to greet him.  My offer of lacrima was refused due to its addictive qualities.  This advice I took seriously but I know how to handle my liquor.   Together we became acquainted with Alexander.  He was an interesting fellow with a peculiar gift for our Prince.  It was a beautiful crafted sceptre with a glass ball at the end.  Pleased, Prince Donovan remarked it was his first gift as Prince. 

Eventually Donovan went back to business and our new resident expressed astonishment.  Was it not customary to give a gift to the Prince upon entering the city?  Perhaps it was but not common around here.  This had to be changed in Alexander’s reckoning.  Curiously, Isabelle proceeded to defend the previous visitor's tight fisted ways. 

My attention wondered and I observed Nathaniel Redford walking in with a briefcase.  After looking around a moment, he left it on a table.  Since I enjoy causing him trouble, I ran with it.  By indicating the briefcase to nearby Kindred and specifying it’s explosive potential.  Many an unintended briefcase had napalm as its cargo.  This caused some unease and Isabelle asked me to alert security.  Anyone but Shane Anderson would do. 

Outside the museum, security was quickly located.  Grimly I listed possible complications that could arise from abandoned luggage.  Holding in a snicker I watched them scramble.  No, I didn’t know who it could have been.  Only that he wore a suit and was rather tall.  Naturally, they feared to touch it because anything could happen.  The Prince praised my sharp eye and I bowed slightly at the acknowledgement. 

My self-satisfaction couldn’t last as Shane soon noticed me.  Standing dead centre, he demanded a reason for my close presence.  Shuttering with nerves I told him of the orphaned suitcase.  Unlike the others, he had no restraint.  Grabbing the case off the table, he carried it outside and set it on fire.  This was as dramatic as I could of hoped.

“Don’t leave things laying around.  I don’t leave my things lying around.”

Grinning to myself, I went back into the museum.  Mischief over, my giddy mood soon faded.  Sadly, my lacrima business wasn’t as hot as I anticipated.  Feeling uneasy, I excused myself and went for a walk.  At the back of my mind, Michael’s death still loomed large.  Before his death, he had expressed his pride at nearly being a grandfather.  Now his family would never know his fate.

Sitting down I sighed and stared up at the sky.  Although Michael had a part, I did hold myself responsible.  There was an undeniable urge to prove myself.  This coupled with a frustration of being the weakest in an undead coterie.  Not a soul took me seriously and simmering resentment gnawed.  No matter how strong I grew those older would always be stronger.  

Being emo was the wrong path to take towards respect so I returned to the gathering.  Once there I saw the one Kindred, I most and least wanted to see.  Sitting down in front of my lacrima, I watched Mr. Beasley regretfully.  For his part he twitched but engaged in a conversation with a Nosferatu, he didn’t look my way. 

Silently I waited to see if he acknowledged me at all.  Once the conversation was over and he had reason to walk away.  This was my masochistic streak coming aloud and strong.  Moreover, I really did miss him.  Then, without warning, a creature from my worst nightmares answered all questions.  

Bending down he spoke my name and told me to come with him.  Hearing a human voice coming from that mouth was quite disconcerting.  Since it was both entirely too wide and opening sideways.  Normally I might give cause for a scene but not in front of Jim.  Glancing back, while being marched off, I saw him look but than quickly look away.

Callously the Gangrel deposited me quite a ways from Elysium.  To my right I saw Merket Prisci Simon Cantwell and Raena finishing a meeting.  As he passed by, Mr. Cantwell made a point to bow to me deeply.  The gesture frightened me.  The look in his eyes said he was bowing to a dead man.

Fortunately, Sonny was one not one to pause for dramatics.  Pulling me aside, he laid out the situation.  The man I killed had belonged to Elliot Fitzpatrick.  In short, it really wasn’t looking good for me.  My mouth dried out as I tripped over my tongue.  Hardly mattered, as nothing I could say would change the past. 

The Gangrel’s job was to guard me.  During which time I had no choice but to watch from the sidelines.  The court was holding a meeting and I was not invited.  It didn’t matter that I was the crime’s sole witness not to mention the perpetrator.  This was absurd to keep me out of the proceedings when it was my life on the line.  Perhaps when they did have my execution I would than be allowed to attend.  Hurray. 

Nervously I remarked that I should have stayed hidden.  The Gangrel seemed completely certain that he could find me no matter where I was.  This pricked me a bit, because everyone assumes I have no strengths at all.  Yet, like all formerly abused children I can hide better than most might believe. 

Besides the Gangrel, there was another guard to keep an eye on me.  Clearly, they considered me highly dangerous and unstable.  As if that notion made any sense at all. 

“Don’t worry I’ll watch the boy.”  Isabella said this flippantly to Sonny over her shoulder.

My jaw clinched and my fingers curled.  This was not the time to argue semantics but I am not a boy.  Despite the impetuosity and ignorance of some of my actions.  Much I have endured and I deserve credit for that.  Anger is the last fig leaf, as they say.  Right now, it was my sole refuge.  Not far away but out of audible range, my very fate was under debate. 

Angrily I voiced my discontent to the impartial Gangrel and Isabella.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to be in the Invictus and this is the way it works.”

Normally the Romanian grandeur of the Invictus institution inspires awe.  Everything changes when my continued existence is in question.  Many little looks over shoulders continued from the adjudicators.   These told me less than I would have preferred.  Through all of this, Isabelle seemed surprised by my angst.  How could she not realize the amount of danger here?  Was it her trust in Sonny or did she simply not care. 

When summoned I came forward into the circle.  The surrounding night air was pleasant and the sky above clear.  When glowing undead eyes turned towards me I could see a desire for bloodshed.  Vampirism being what it was.  For some of them I doubt it was even personal.

Desire for vengeance aside, my life as it was, would continue.  People would die tonight but not me.  Lucky me got to continue balancing on the edge of a knife.  My ears were full of blood in my attempts to wield control.  Not much of Prince Donovan’s words did I grasp beyond that point.  My requiem would continue but my carefree days were over.  Compensation to Elliot required a significant favour.  There was an attempt at justifications from me but I knew they were pointless.  It didn’t matter how bad I felt or if I had intended to kill.  In the end, only the outcome mattered. 

My futile protests didn’t cease and Sonny pulled me aside.  There would be no reassurance but another layer of worry.  Shortly, Elliot Fitzpatrick and Alder Ivanovich joined us.  In his rich accent, Ivanovich told me of an outfit older than the Invictus.  This confused me as he was speaking of the mafia.  Before now I thought that crime syndicate began in the 19^th century.  My current state of affairs would be handled mobster style.  Starting with it being a favour, I owed Mr. Fitzpatrick.  Instead of a boon had my insult been purely within the First Estate. 

Laying a heavy hand on my shoulder the good Alder sighed deeply.  If I continued to make such poor choices, there were alternatives.

“I have a dust buster in my truck.  Do you know what that means?”

“It means that is where I will go after I become dust.”

“Exactly.”  There was a sly smile, a barely hidden eagerness to him.  Evidentially he was keenly anticipating my ultimate demise and his subsequent clean-up. 

Never did I believe Ivanovich harboured any particular fondness for me.  Yet, this amount of bloodlust for my hide was upsetting.  Fare-thee-well to any promise of his regarding my safety.  It stopped short of betrayal, as I never had trusted him.  Now especially I would take anything from him with caution. 

If I had the courage or wits, I would have asked his chosen method of displacement.  Did he plan on a controlled back alley execution?  My head was easy to remove in any number of ways.  Fire was also a dependable method.  If they wished to humiliate me, they could provoke a fight I could not win.  Old reliable was repeated gunshots to the head until everything I was soaked into the ground.

The Prince had joined in on our discourse of death.  Talking around his fangs, he explained my responsibility as a citizen.  Only the weak were conquered.  A deserving resident of Chicago was one who rose above.  To drive this point home, Sonny pointedly referred to me as Reynolds.  The Prince corrected him but I rightly interpreted my Lord’s implication.  Coldly I informed him I did know when I had been insulted.

Pitying me Ivanovich said they might find use for my elsewhere.  Clearly, this line of work was not for me.  Struggling under the weight of anger I replied to the contrary.  This is what I wanted to do and what I could do.  Never would I submit to a shove into the corner.  Despite my soft exterior, I am pure steel beneath.  If only they knew the true extent of that.   

Quick to mock my fear and regret Ivanovich challenged my restraint.   Laughing he asked if I wanted to fight.  One ounce less of control and I would have accepted.  The offer extended to Raena and she smiled without understanding the stakes.  Using a single word, I turned both offers down.  Offhand Sonny suggested I find a room to work out my anger in.  This was an excellent idea.

My last burst of restraint came as I excused myself.  The call of concern from Isabelle barely registered from behind me.  My feet kept moving me forward away from it all.  They broke into a run before my brain noticed it.  There was nowhere to go naturally but running felt good.  Shaking I dropped to my knees and crawled between a park bench and a tree.

Hiding gave me a sense of control when I knew I had none.  The hairs prickled on the back my neck.  Two Kindred were drawing near.  There was no escape without revealing myself.  Nothing to do but hope I went unnoticed.  From my vantage point, I could see their shadows but they did not see me. 

Careful as I was to hold still I couldn’t help but twitch.  The accent gave him away if nothing else.  Cautiously I risked a glimpse around the tree and saw only feet.  Just out of sight were two Dragons. 

With eerie calm, the dragon that was not Beasley said he was in frenzy.  The statement gave way to the sounds of Jim strangling.  Silent shock caused me to peer out further from my hideaway.  Without a doubt, I would have risked everything to save him.  Yet I could see their unmoving shadows were too far apart.

“I don’t need to breathe why am I doing this?  *choke choke*  I don’t need to breathe why am I doing this?”  *choke choke*

Continuing in the same demeanour, the senior Dragon answered.  As long as Jim remained attached to his mortal coil, the pain would continue.  The addiction to cocaine was also in his head and not in his Kindred potential.  In order to become strong Jim Beasley must transcend his weak roots and accept his Kindred destiny. 

In time, the sounds of asphyxiation faded away.  Unable to help myself I breathed a sigh of relief.  Thankful that Jim was no longer in pain.  The easiest to fix physical pain at least. For his mental healing, there was a long road ahead. 

“We all learn the lesson.  At the end of the day, we learn to stop breathing.   Think of the world in Kindred terms.  We have a long time to learn it but at the end of the day we all stop breathing.”

The simple strength of these words astounded me.  On the surface, it seemed so straightforward.  It is not necessary to breath when your heart does not beat.  Only in actual practice, the thought of not breathing was terrifying.  So fixed is the instinct for oxygen as part of the cycle of living.  To stop breathing is to accept completely the absence of one’s humanity.   Only then is the transcendence into full potential achievable. 

All Kindred attempt to be human to a certain degree.  Deny the Beast in an endeavour to continue in an approximation of normal.  Clinging to what is comfortable.   This human attribute only limits possibilities untold.  In my case, my fits of emotion were my comfort zone.  Leaving my padded room was taking a risk.  A risk that could open doors now closed.  

A feeling of calm surrounded me.  Admittedly, I was not ready to stop breathing.  Nevertheless, I found the counsel to Jim Beasley inspiring enough to find hope.  After they left I carefully walked back to the gathering.  When I arrived, there was a flurry of reactions.  For a while, Sonny and company had been searching for me.  There was even concern expressed which surprised me. 

Now that I was back there was more business to attend too.  Following his current trend, Alder Ivanovich didn’t pull any punches.

“We need to talk about your prolific writing skills.”  

That was a nice compliment but I’m not sure where he might have seen my writing.  I didn’t have to wonder about that for long.  Using Internet magic, they had found my blog.  The blog I am writing in right now.  All my secrets with my ridiculous notions were now public property.  They had read every single mawkish word about Jim Beasley.  What must they think of me? 

This was my first thought but it was the least of my concerns.  The clear masquerade breech was a much larger issue.  The danger went beyond mortals and their conclusions.  As a citizen of Chicago, I should be protecting her secrets.  Not exposing them to whomever might read my blog.  Assuming my speculations had been at all correct.  The care I had taken to keep my blog hidden was not enough. 

So once again, I was staring down a death sentence.  The Prince had the final word on that naturally so I stood there waiting for him.  A beautiful sensual young woman perched not far from us.  My eyes had found her more than once that evening.  Impossible not to appreciate an outfit such as she wore.  Carelessly she peeled off her thigh high stockings and I attempted not to stare.  

“You can call me CC but that will probably change the next time you talk to me.”        

She was cute, bubbly and fun and a nice relief from the night’s peril.  For his own amusement, Alder Ivanovich ordered us to talk dirty to each other.  This consisted of me awkwardly complementing her bodysuit.  The lack of clear line with these things makes me uncertain.  Just thinking back to that moment is making me horny if I you want me to be honest.  The suggestion came forth of her teaching me to loosen up.  Since I was entirely to tense from the constant threat to my life. 

The announcement of a Circle of the Crone meeting saved me from further embarrassment.   CC happily attended this meeting, with Sherri the Harpy.  The others had no wish to participate but after I pestered them, they allowed me too.  Provided I promised to leave if the Prince did so he could deal with me.  Exactly like an exasperated parent allowing their child a treat.  Feeling approximately five years old, I shuffled over to the meeting.

Cautiously I poked my head into the small but impressively decorated space.  Seeing me at the entrance Papa Rose invited me to come in.  Politely I thanked him and scooted over to sit next to CC.  Sitting on her other side, Sherri asked if we had been introduced.  The blonde-haired woman beamed in confirmation and said that I was her non-project project.  Then I was pleased when they noticed how my bright red tie matched my socks.

To say Papa Rose was impressive would be understating it greatly.  The meeting began on the beat of rhythmic drums.  One by one, we all stood at his prompting and began to move with the music.  Sensual and sleek Mae held my hand to pull me up.  The black clad form of her twisted between and around the dancers.  The grace of her upraised hands and body embodied the trance of the drums in the space around her.  Earlier in the night, I had called her: A – Mae – zing to Isabelle.  My attempt at horrible punning went unnoticed but my observation was true. 

As self-conscious as I am, I couldn’t do much dancing.  Even so, it was amazing to see others allow the tempo to flow through them.  Even Shane Anderson seemed to value the chance to let down his guard.   In the middle of the floor, Sherri and CC danced together which gave me cause to smile.

In true enthusiasm for both the subject matter and the words themselves, Papa Rose preached his sermon.  The vibe of the room swirled around me and I rode the wave.  Meaning reached my overexerted brain more than individual words.  We all come to crossroads in our lives.  This is a frightening moment but also one to learn from.  It is the choice to stand still or make the decision to start walking.

Once he had finished, he allowed other Kindred to take the floor.  Many agreed with the words of Papa Rose.  In those words, many had found the guidance needed to move forward.  Ellen Peters in her red tights.  Black Cat was in his fine clothes, growling and laughing while over complimenting.  Unknown Kindred gave voice to his story of nearly leaving the circle.  Sherri and CC holding hands and laughing about their friendship.  Jeanette DeBrebant speaking of her trials and what she had learned.  Shane made a point to stress the importance of the night’s lesson.  Randall with his voice strained while creating a big emotional build up.  Only to cumulate with a warning about the lake and being offended when we laughed.

The assembly concluded with an offer to pray at the altar.  Many went reverently forward but I stayed behind.  The power in the room had been obvious.  It would have been an honour to give affirmation to it.  Only I needed the emotions I had left to deal with my last struggles of the night.

The hallway magistrate was still in place as I left the small church.  As I approached, I saw Sonny, Isabelle and Ivanovich talking to another young Kindred.  My eyes narrowed at the newcomer as I evaluated him.   Once again, we were at a stopgap as we waited for the Prince to arrive.  Suddenly Prince Donovan stumbled out of the church with a confused look.  In his hands, he held Grace Hartford’s necklace.  This got out attention immediately but he wandered off before we could ask.  After a moment, Isabelle went to investigate.     

There was no news of note when she returned.  Not to long after, Prince Donovan came back seemingly fine.  They dismissed the neophyte and directed me to his chair.  Sitting down tentatively, I faced the Prince across from me.  Violating the first tradition twofold in one night couldn’t end well.  Going by the phrasing, I had forfeited my right to the Blood twice over.

“I just didn’t want to forget.” 

This wasn’t a good excuse from me but it was the simple truth.  To often I find small key details slipping out of my head.  Reading back on my blog shows me where I came from and an idea of where I’m going.  Keeping it was one thing and it didn’t cause anyone harm.  Putting it out on the web was another situation entirely.   A part of me knew I had published it in an effort to seek understanding.  It had been a reckless thing to do.

The Prince understood my urge to record and remember.  Only this was more than just a trip down memory lane.  In my blog, I had put dates, names, positions, and any number of other personal information.  This was a grave offence and not taken lightly.  Now the blog and the information within existed only in safekeeping.   Yet surprisingly, Donovan did want it known he had enjoyed reading my work.

“Not all of it has been … complementary.”  This was me wincing as I remembered my impatience with him at one point.

“I know!  And that’s fine!  I admire someone who is blunt and says what he means.”  The Prince spoke this hardily in order to convey the sincerity of his thoughts.

That is why I continue in exactly the same manner as before.  If I am to capture the truth of my experiences, I need to express them accurately.  Even as I know, you are reading this right now Your Majesty.  The words I write are often not even flattering to me.  As long as I remain here, I will continue to grow.  Each entry is a signpost, not the end of the journey.  Even after just a few months, I have grown a great deal.

Donovan could see potential in my writing and because of that, I could continue with my requiem.  The death of my sire was unfortunate.  This he was willing to forgive for me foolish mistakes made by him.  His death gave birth to me and that was a fair price to pay.  In all of it, my sire had nearly slipped my mind.  Knowing that Donovan had the full story made me cringe with shame.  Even if he didn’t seem put off by any key details concerning me.

The granted permission to live translated into prospects for me. 

“You need to straighten your spine.”

Just then, I had been leaning forward.  Carefully concentrating on every word he said.  At the command, I automatically sat up.  Causing titters from the peanut gallery but I ignored them.  

“I was speaking metaphorically but thank you for that.”  The Prince might have been hiding a smile himself. 

Expectations continued for me to stop being an overly emotional brat and start being useful.  There would be no more throwing my time away on lovesick quests.  A certain member of this city was going on sabbatical to DeKalb to remove a distraction.  There wasn’t a need for names.  Wincing, I asked if he spoke of Reynolds.  Even as I knew that was not the case.  Once again, I felt I had disgraced myself.  Knowing he had full knowledge of the fool inside of me.  My mistakes were forgiven but more was expected of me for the future.

Softly I thanked Prince Donovan for his mercy and understanding.  The word I wanted was consideration but it slipped my mind.  For a moment, Donovan looked startled.  Perhaps he had not expected me to admit guilt.  There were instances of guilt undoubtedly.  In the bar, I had the chance to step away and did not take it.  With my blog, I had chosen to post it to the web knowing there was a chance of its discovery. 

There was one final point for The Prince to make.  It was in everyone’s benefit for me to do well.  If I did well than it looked good on them.  If I did poorly, it showed them in a bad light.  It would do for me to stop considering them enemies.  Instead, I could view them as benefactors.

On this same vein, Sonny demanded to know whom it had been with me at the bar.  Hesitating a bit, I reported she was Merket and not an Invictus.  When he asked how she had come to be there I looked away.

“I’ll tell you the truth.”  With a sigh, I looked back at him.

“I would appreciate that …”

“After what had happened I was upset.  I needed to see a friendly face … I wasn’t sure if your face would be so … friendly.”

"So you called me up asking for my help and then betrayed me?"

There was nothing I could do but sit there stunned.

“You’re my cousin, you’re my family, you’re my blood … I vouched for you in public.”  Heavy sigh of forced patience with my stupidity.  “If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?”

A light in my stubborn brain flickered delivering an epiphany.  If it had been Reynolds as my liege, speaking for me, what would have happened?  More than likely, he would have bowed to the pressure of the crowd.  If it had been Evengii, he would have laughed at my pointless fate.  In all probability, he would of just thrown me on the other’s mercy without a second thought. 

Had either of them been in charge my head would be on the block.  That or tied to a post, watching the sunrise.  Numerous ways it could have turned out.  If I let myself realize it, Salvatorre Scalice had saved my life.  While he respected the courts opinion, it would not have swayed him.

This was a heady realization after a night full of them.  Literally, I could hear the gears churning in my mind.  Going back to the aquarium, I passed Papa Rose.  Stopping me, he asked why I had attended his meeting.  Truthfully, I replied that I wished to learn all that I could about everything.  Did I then learn something?  Pausing I looked into his eyes and saw he wore half sunglasses half eyeglasses.  Yes, I had indeed learned quite a bit.

Back at Elysium, the others teased the new guy and I stood apart.  There were also a large number of cats.  Hearing a small sound behind me, I turned and Mae was mere inches away.  Freezing with surprise I blurted out the first thought in my head.  I had enjoy the ceremony she had been part of. 

“Excuse me.”  Mae murmured and I realized she wanted the chair I had been standing over.   

Hurriedly I stepped away to allow her to sit.  Then I pulled the chair out for good measure.  The gesture was accepted graciously.  Thankfully, I felt less awkward when she replied she was glad I had enjoyed myself.

The seemingly endless evening was winding down to a close.  Looking around I saw that Papa Rose was available.  Respectfully I walked over to ask a provocative question.  It had been on my mind since he had concluded his sermon.  How could I move beyond my crossroads?  That was where I was right now I knew.  Yet try as I might I remained stuck in one spot.

“Ah than you must choose a road.  Out of all of the other roads that are available to you.  Choose only one and remain on it until you reach your destination.  Leaving the other roads behind can be hard.”

That was exactly my problem.  My life concisely summed up by a witch doctor I didn’t even know.  There were so many paths directly in front of my feet.  Until I choose one, there was no chance of moving forward at all. 

In the end, it really does all come down to one very important question.  One I would have to answer for myself soon or wait until it was to late. 

Was this the time for me to stop breathing?  Could it be worth it to continue on until all hope for air was forever lost.