Fading, falling, lost in forever. Will I find a way to keep it together? Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?

In the lull at Elysium, unnoticed by the other Camarilla members, I Obfuscate and slip from the building. Despite the lack of devastating events, I need to get away. Reappearing a few blocks down, I climb into my unlocked, piece of shit Jetta. The old car still smells of mildew and shows signs of disuse. Starting the engine, the Genesis CD in the console starts playing and brings me a modicum of comfort. Pulling my notebook from the back of my skirt, I lean back in the seat and spread it open on my lap. My brow furrowed, I scrawl a few notes into it. My hand shakes slightly as I cross a few things out. I should be happy for a few spots of clarity, but no. I was really hoping some of this stuff wasn't real. Closing the notebook and turning up the radio, I pull from my spot and make my way home.

It's only after I reach the entrance to the winding road that leads to the house, that I remember Tybalt's offer. The woods loom ahead of me, and flashing back to the last time I rode up here after an Elysium, my hands begin shaking on the steering wheel. No. No, that didn't happen. If I did, I wouldn't be here, and I am. Knowing I should just turn around and head straight to Tybalt's manor, I press down on the gas and head up the road anyway. The windshield wipers squeak back and forth, barely clearing the rain from the glass. My eyes similarly tick back and forth, my senses alert to anyone or anything following me. I reach the paved driveway in front of the house and turn off the car. I'm alone out here, I know it. And yet. My hand freezes on the door handle. I can't bring myself to open it. My quiet whimper is heard over the tap of rain on the hood. What if? What if it's the same, all over again? I lift the handle, and halfheartedly push the door open. Nothing happens, so I step out. Holding the door open like a shield, I breathe in deeply. I smell nothing but the stink of my own fear. There's no one out here. Nothing attacks me.

With a strangled sob, I plop into the dirt next to the car. Leaning against the open door, I curl my knees to my chest and squeeze them. "Real, or not real? Real, or not real?" The words quickly become a mantra, as my clothes and hair steadily become more soaked by the rain. Part of me is tempted to call out to Tybalt's mind, but I keep my thoughts reigned in. He doesn't need this. 

I sit in the dirt I died on. The spot I was killed. Nothing happens. Did anything ever?

I reach behind me, into the car, and grab my notebook. Hunching over the pages to protect it from the rain, I write the nights activity, the people I met...anything I can before the lines of reality begin to blur.
Call me Al. Who?                                  Sabbat in the sewer.
             Sailix: Manservant. Assamite. Gay?                     Art: Toreador. Nice. Warm.
Cally: Nos. Prince(cess?)Nice.                Grendel: Nos. Really Nos. Likes rats. Nice.
                                Michael: Gangrel. Sheriff. Tybalt's friend. Impetuous. 
Got to keep my knife.              Scourge. Rictus, too.       Iskander: Assamite. Nosy. Primogen.
                                     Scum dude: Famous. Masquerade breachy? Gay?
Did that one guy hit on me?
I scrawl a sketch of a tire and try to ignore the shaking in my hand. The pencil snaps in my grasp, and I squeeze the splinters of wood into my flesh.

Dropping the shards of pencil in the mud, I force myself to my feet and slide into the driver's side once more. I almost expect to see my chainsaw sitting chummily close on the passenger seat, but no. I start the car, and without thinking too hard about it, head down the driveway. Tybalt will take care of me. He'll keep me safe. I hear an all too familiar chuckle and my foot reflexively hits the brake, the car skidding and mud splashing onto the side window. "No. No, no, no. Not you. Not real." I continue driving, only just managing to ignore the voice that hisses dissent in my thoughts, telling me that Tybalt will abandon me just like Mongrel, or worse, he'll end up delusional and dangerous like Tommy. When I finally pull in front of the sprawling manor, I only spend a minimal amount of time to plaster an attempt at a natural smile on my face, before joining my Lasombra friend in his home.