Darien left Paul's crumbling apartment. He had blown his mind out in front of the television set. Not the traditional sense of a gun, but with potent drugs. He was no longer himself. He would never be the same person again. Darien knew he needed to get away for this was the last time he would try to help his dying friend. By the time Darien reached his car across the dark street, a crash was heard from above. Paul had thrown his TV out the window, smashing the glass and sending the pieces raining down like diamonds. Darien rode on in his car away from the apartment. Away from the city, where he no longer heard from his friend. A fresh start away from the drugs and away from the life he lived underground.
Darien had wakened to the chirping of birds and mooing of cattle. A rough night but warm as any in the barn he stayed at. Here he asked to stay a few days before moving on. He would work to cover any expenses. He toiled away working hard as the farmer's hand. Work he was never accustomed to. By the end of the first day, he was ragged and sore. His hands cut from the vicious barbed wire. The second day treated him no better. He felt like a tattered ragdoll ready to just sleep and forget. The third day, his tired muscles had started to gain the strength necessary to cope with the tasks. He by no means had no pain but it was more tolerable. He thanked the farmer for the use of the barn and food he had eaten. It was time for Darien to carry on and find his place within this vast world. It was not until later that he noticed his car was running smoother. The farmer had tuned up his car and made it in proper working order. Darien thanked the farmer in his thoughts in hopes that good fortune will come his family's way.
