Chapter 1 in Eye of a Hurricane

I made the decision to start the journey out of this hurricane. In the midst of this hell-borne fury, I stomp against the lashing winds. My arms try to protect my face from the onslaught of debris that slaps and scratches my body. It tears my shirt into ribbons, and the rain continues to feed the already knee-deep water I wade through.
I see the cave up ahead as my next marker. Shelter, at least for a little while until I can wrap my bleeding wounds and head back out. A respite in this torrent I need, if only to stop the blood running down my forearms.
I throw myself into the cave, feeling the air of stillness surround me in an unusual embrace. The first air of calm to grace me in a while since I left the eye of the hurricane behind. How long had I been battling the winds, rain, and shrapnel? Time stands meaningless in this comforting darkness; it’s difficult to determine how many hours have passed or what day of the week it is. Do such human inanities really matter right now? How can I tell when all I’ve known of day and night is the passage of rain and dark? To tell the difference between the days would become an exercise in futility, a fool’s hope to establish some sense of control when none exists.
I let my thoughts wander as I rest out of the storm to bandage my wounds. I started this journey. I wanted out. I wanted better. I wanted more. Was it foolish of me to desire such when all I had known was the storm itself? The words I read and the people that spoke to me inspired me. Something better exists; you just have to look for it. I believe it has been several days since I left, and I know I cannot go back, but I follow a path where the destination is unknown. I have set into motion myself to leave, to seek. What if this, what if that, what if this other thing…?
These thoughts plague me. What if my destination leads to another eye of a hurricane? What if it leads me into a circle? What if it takes away from me the collection I have gathered along the way? These tokens may mean little to others, but to me, they signify what I have eagerly sought: love. What if this journey leads me away from that? I have been searching for wealth, power, and prestige. I know that these three concepts have ruined others, their results leading to no further gain than where they stood before. How do I reconcile that this journey may lead me away from love? Is this even worth doing?
Is this even worth doing?
I question my motivations. I may still struggle in this throttling storm every day and night, but I have these tokens to remind me of what humans are capable of showing: kindness, love, generosity. Tenderness, care, confidence. Many humans show nothing of these qualities. Yet I have the pleasure of knowing at least one who does. Whether it is sincere or not, I cannot tell as her kind words mix with the fiendish howls of the wind to muddle the message. Even when my ear lies next to her mouth, the wind sweeps them away to turn themselves into nearly inaudible whispers.
And my hearing stands wanting.
However, if this journey leads me away from her, what then shall I do? I would have to abandon these tokens, what others would call trifles, to another place. A sacrifice. My sacrifice. The blood. My blood. How much more of my blood will this storm take? If the bandages soak up already this much… will the cost be more than I can bear?
Anxiety. Longing for a place I knew, I understood. Yes, hate inhabited my heart and my thoughts there, but it was hate I understood. I considered the hate my friend, an awful friend, but still a friend. Now that I told hate to leave… what now? I cannot bring someone along, for this is my journey alone, however, at least the hate kept me company.
I look out the cave entrance to see the rain and wind subside. Their pelting should not bother me as much. I wrap the last of my wounds and crawl to the entrance. For now, I will keep going. I must.
I cannot stop the wheels I have now set into motion.