And that's the final lash. He stands for a moment, taking it in, then pushes away and heads through the room toward the sliding doors that open onto the deck. His house, yes. That he wanted. That he wants. The blinds are drawn and he can see out into the dark, where part of him desperately wants to be.

And that's not where he really belongs.

He lifts a hand and presses it against the glass. "Help me."