Long Road to Ruin

That night was full of twisted, masochistic dreams; and each one tormented me in succession until I awoke from sleep drenched in a cold sweat. For a fleeting moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. The immaculately white walls and gaudy furniture were not that of my own familiar bedroom. I sat up in bed, staring at my surroundings. Finally, after a moment or two more of confusion-fueled shaking, I remembered. I was alone in my hotel room in Indianapolis, and not in some torture chamber that my nightmares had created.

Glancing over at the red, digital numbers on the clock next to me, I couldn’t help but groan. It was only 1:46 a.m. I had hoped to sleep longer than that so that I could be fully rested for the next day’s plans, but I should have known better than to place such false hope on sleep. Those dreams had finally brought to my attention just how desperate I had become. I wasn’t even safe inside my own head.

I wished that Adrienne was with me, and that I could have woken up after a full night’s sleep with her in my arms instead of waking from a fragmented sleep in the arms of a subconscious threat. I felt incredibly sad and lonely; like I really needed to leave this place even though I had only just arrived hours ago. Whenever thoughts of Adie plagued me I reluctantly shook them off. Thoughts wouldn’t help me to heal.

I stood up, still slightly weak at the knees. My cell phone, which I had turned on expecting to see some indication that Mike had tried getting a hold of me again, had nothing to offer but an empty inbox. I sighed dramatically. Maybe even he had given up on me. That was enough to make me feel even worse, but I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to put up with me either.

“Well, what did you expect?” a voice nagged in the back of my mind. “You hung up on him.”

I tried to ignore the voice that was my conscience for one particular reason: the last thing that I wanted to do at this point was admit that any of this mess that had driven me to partial insanity was my fault. It couldn’t be my fault. Cheating on my wife was the only thing I had done wrong. Karma’s just a bitch.

It was far too early to check out of the hotel. This I knew. It wouldn’t surprise me if there wasn’t even a receptionist at the front desk at this time of night. But if I couldn’t check out, what would I do to pass the time? At this point sleep was far beyond my grasp and it would be pointless to even try. My only option was to turn on the television, its static edged screen currently broadcasting some completely sappy and unrealistic soap opera. Oddly enough, my life was starting to remind me of a soap opera. With a small sigh, I flipped the channel to an episode of Law and Order and sat in bed, blankly watching.

Hours passed. I had been able to doze off into a sort of half sleep for a while, and this adequately made up for the real sleep I had lost that night. The morning sunlight tried to fight its way through the tan curtain fabric, succeeding to peek out of the uncovered corners and subtly light up the room. I awoke once more, and I was relieved to wake up to such an optimistic sight this time, as opposed to the grim circumstances I had encountered the first time. If I had had any more nightmares, I couldn’t remember them. I didn’t waste any time throwing on a change of clothes and packing the remainder of my belongings back in my suitcase.

Soon I was at the front desk, returning my key, and then stepping out into the light outside of the hotel. It had been relatively dark when I had arrived the previous day, and I had been tired, so I hadn’t really paid much attention to my surroundings. Then it had just been another city to me. Now was a different story.

I looked up to see many immaculate skyscrapers in the distance, all of them a shimmering, bleached shade of white. I could see a park in the distance, large and circular, with a majestic marble fountain at the center. There were statues and war memorials scattered about, enhancing the landscape. Colorful varieties of flowers and billboards were placed at the edges of the streets. It was really a nice city; too bad I wouldn’t be staying.

I didn’t want Mike, or anyone else for that matter, to know where I was. I wanted to disappear.

I began to walk, paying attention to businesses and street signs, until I eventually ended up at the bus station. It was shocking just how many homeless citizens were there. They were sitting on benches and leaning up against railings, talking to each other. All in all, they resembled a flock of pigeons; taking up space wherever they pleased and trying to steer clear of the rest of the population. I wondered if they were expecting to be able to get onto one of the buses without paying a fare.

Discarding that thought, I stepped up to the window and bought my ticket. At first I wasn’t sure where I was even headed, but by the time I got my credit card out it hit me. I knew where I was going. The ticket was ripped in half at the gate and I walked towards the correct bus. I had made it just in time for the 8:30 a.m. trip. As I lifted my luggage up onto the fold out steps, I noticed that one of the homeless people had indeed thought they could get away with sneaking onto a bus. I briefly watched as security dragged him back behind the gate, shaking my head. Poor guy.

For the next three hours I sat in my seat on the bus, which was comfortably upholstered with smooth, black leather. I dreamily watched the landscape go by, occasionally checking my phone to see if there were any new calls or texts. Still nothing. I hoped that Mike had been smart enough to realize that I wasn’t going to be in Indianapolis anymore once he got there. It would save him the trouble of looking for me. I was an independent person, strong when I felt the need and mostly unchanging. There was no doubt in my mind that I could get through this without someone holding my hand.

It took all I had to keep from thinking about Adrienne and how much further away from her I was with each passing second. The thought of being so completely alone in this world hurt. Though the pain had been dulled by the day’s distractions, it was still very much there.

Eventually the bus whirred to a slow, squeaky stop, expelling clouds of exhaust as it moved. I had finally reached what I hoped to be my final destination. As I stepped out of the bus, dragging my luggage along, my eyes were met with a familiar sight. It was one that I had seen not that long ago.

Chicago.

The life I had become accustomed to had been both destroyed and buried here, but for some reason I found myself willingly stepping foot on the same poisonous soil once more. Something had made me feel compelled to return to this city, but I couldn’t put my finger on what that driving force could be. The human psyche really is a strange thing; moreover, my own thoughts were always hard to decipher themselves, without giving regards to the psyche as a whole. Assuming that my reason for returning would come to me before the sun sunk back into the landscape was all that I could do.

A slight wind whispered loftily through the air, blowing my unkempt bangs over my eyes. I shook my head so that my vision would be cleared and I began to make the short journey towards the clusters of glimmering, multi-colored lights in the distance. The temperature was perfect for walking on a night like this; it was slightly cool, yet the cold air was not so overbearing that I was actually cold. It calmed me, along with the prospect of visiting my favorite city again. I left the bus station behind and within a few minutes was on the first stretch of main street. The city was still bustling, and it made me feel so secure and at home.

Suddenly, a hand reached for me from somewhere nearby, in a location I couldn’t see with my peripheral vision. The grip tugged sharply on the back of my jacket and uprooted my feet from the ground. Before I could even comprehend what was happening to me, I was on the cement, and the stranger had hit me on the head with something I didn't have the time to analyze.

I lost consciousness and the world faded to black.