Michael sighed. He had been in this hell hole for years, yet the staff of the supposedly first-class Lake Heart Asylum hadn't been able to cure the sickness he harbored in his head. If he had the choice, he'd have left a long time ago.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, he did not have that choice. Michael was one of the few patients at Lake Heart who had come there of his own accord. He had heard many good things about the place and had hoped that they could help him where no one else could. He had paid hard-earned money to fly out to an airport forty miles away, then hired a taxi to drive him the rest of the way to the secluded Asylum. From the cabbie's reaction to his requested destination, Michael should have known something was amiss, but his mind had been elsewhere, too busy to read the fear written plainly on the man's face, just as it had been too busy to read the fine print on the contract he signed upon arrival.<br/><br/>The duplicitous Dr. Ignatius had welcome him with open arms and a warm heart. Michael has since discovered--far too late-- that the warmth came from the evil pulsing within. Ignatius was one of the facility's most skilled doctors, but his soul was gradually falling prey to the shadows that haunted the Asylum. Those shadows would eventually consume him, just as they would consume Michael and every other unfortunate and unholy soul within the building's cold stone walls.<br/><br/>Putting such fatalistic thoughts out of his head for the time being, Michael gazed at his vague reflection in the thick reinforced glass window pane in front of him. The same storm that Ignatius had watched gather earlier was fast approaching over the lake, but he paid it no heed. He had aged since coming here, in body as well as in mind. At 38, his well-muscled frame still held a slight glimmer of youth, but even it was fading fast under the oppressive gloom of the place. His blonde hair had lost it's bright sheen, and his skin hadn't felt the touch of fresh air and sunlight since he had escaped seven years ago. During that time, he had reveled in the untamed, untainted glory of mother nature. It was stolen from him when Ignatius and four black-hooded servants following him had tracked him down. The last thing he remembered was the setting sun's color fading as the clouds of twilight overtook the sky, paving the way for the coming night. A dark shape had suddenly obscured his vision, a sharp pain had pierced his neck, and then....nothing.<br/><br/>He remembered nothing from between the time he had felt that pain to the moment he had awoken back in those nightmare halls---days later, apparently.<br/><br/>A rustling noise behind him brought his mind back to the present. He turned and his blue eyes met those of a short-brown haired young woman. Slightly startled, he said nothing for a moment. She couldn't have been a day over 18, but she looked as though she had been through several lifetimes of torment. Finding his voice, he finally said to her:<br/><br/>"Well...good evening, mam. Would you care to join me at the window? A beautiful bunch of storm clouds are rolling in, just in time for lunch."