The Darkest Hour

It was only ten-thirty at night, but the narrow cobblestone streets around him were deserted. There were few residences here. Mostly offices and scant museums standing sentry along the road as he made his way to the oldest and most deserted building in the vicinity. The hulking structure took up a a ridiculous amount of space considering Rosetta was a comparatively small town. Empty windows stared like vacant eyes, moon glinting off the sandstone spire of the building's minaret. He kept telling himself he was just going here to clear his head. Deep down he knew that was a creative bit of fiction. He was exhausted living this lie. Exhausted forcing himself to blend in when he knew he was a freak of nature. He was tired of the endless onslaught of images and emotions he couldn't control every time he made direct eye contact with someone. It was nearly impossible to get through sophomore year of high school this way. For the better part of the year he descended into the realization he was utterly trapped in this cursed existence. No way out. No way to make it stop. No means of escape. He couldn't live like this. He didn't want to live like this anymore.