Status: ;3 Active & my favorite idea. <3
The Return.
Directions
My hands clench tightly around the skeleton steering wheel cover. A slip of paper is bound between my pointer and middle finger. The cop gave it to me. It has directions on it...to where she's at.
You look for someone and end up getting directions for a different person. That's how everything had been handed to me my whole life. The sunlight burns through the windshield, sweetly attempting to cook my face. I reach for my shades and throw them on.
The fifth picture of Jana, poorly taped on the light pole comes into view. I turn the steering wheel. Halling Way; our street. I feel like I've been only driving for two minutes, when really about thirty. It's against the law to drive under the influence. Absent-mindedness seems to be worse than any influence. I tune out a lot when I'm driving or maybe that's the only time I realize it.
Finally, I pull up into my driveway and park. I throw the paper onto the passenger seat. Like any other day, I leisurely make my way into the house.
My feet stroll slowly into the bedroom. I tussle with my hair, looking into the long door mirror. Why am I trying to fix my hair for a loony ex? Why do people like mirrors? They are too vain for me. If I needed to check my teeth or something important..I tend to stick with old fashion CD backs, but this mirror is important. It belongs to Jana...
Grabbing at my hood, I throw it over my head as I get back in my truck. I reach for the crumpled paper and read the address. I punch the buttons on the truck's GPS. It's not that far away. This new observation is quite unsettling. Jana and I need to move. What if we have kids...I couldn't imagine my kids riding bikes around somewhere, so close to a freak-home.
On second thought, I actually hate kids. They take way more than they will ever give. This is factual from my own experience as a child. I wouldn't even put kids into any scenario of my future thoughts. All the solitude has got my mind going into different places. Places I don't like for them to be.
Jana talked about having kids maybe two times already. If we had some I wouldn't have to be all alone right now. Would that have made it harder or easier now that she's gone....wait I'm not gonna think like that. She will be with me soon enough, it will be like nothing happened.
I pull into the parking garage of the hospital. If the freaks inside somehow have family, I sure as hell know something as creepy as this garage will keep them away. I twist the key out of the ignition and the humming of the engine fades into the darkness. The lighting is very dim inside here, but I can still manage to see writing on the backside of the directions paper. I squint my eyes and stare at the words the cop left for me.
I make my way up into the elevator and press the button for the entrance. It's on the fourth floor. Something tells me that it starts way up there because they don't want their patients to escape. They have four floors to some how capture and shoot their ass with tranquilizer if they try. If they escape from their windows, they will plummet to their deaths.
Then again, I just saw something about inmates escaping from the Chicago prison windows and I'm sure it was from a higher level. I wonder who is kept more confine and watched the crazies or people in prison.
The elevator opens and I walk over to the front counter. The nurse with light orange hair is busy filing some papers. "Sign in with your name, time and person your visiting," fuck I don't really want any evidence left that I was here. I pick up the pen and sign. Bruce Wayne 5:43 pm, Dakota. The nurse shoves the rest of the folders in her hand into a grey cabinet. She stands up straight and looks down at the sign-in sheet. She quirks her eyebrow, "I need to make a copy of your driver's license,"
I'm not taking her out of here why is there so much shit I need to do. I take out my wallet, slide out my driver's license and hand it to her. She reads the information, "Bruce is a nickname for Daniel?" she asks timidly. My eyes trail over to the right hallway as she scans it and hands it back to me. "Go into that room," She points to the room to the right of her. "For inspection," her eyes analyze over the sign in paper. "You're here for Dakota...Trey?"
"Yep," I answer, pushing my wallet back into my tight pocket. Her eyes fixate on my face and it burns. Her lips spread as if she's going to continue talking but I don't have time for it. I walk over to the room and open up the door.
You look for someone and end up getting directions for a different person. That's how everything had been handed to me my whole life. The sunlight burns through the windshield, sweetly attempting to cook my face. I reach for my shades and throw them on.
The fifth picture of Jana, poorly taped on the light pole comes into view. I turn the steering wheel. Halling Way; our street. I feel like I've been only driving for two minutes, when really about thirty. It's against the law to drive under the influence. Absent-mindedness seems to be worse than any influence. I tune out a lot when I'm driving or maybe that's the only time I realize it.
Finally, I pull up into my driveway and park. I throw the paper onto the passenger seat. Like any other day, I leisurely make my way into the house.
My feet stroll slowly into the bedroom. I tussle with my hair, looking into the long door mirror. Why am I trying to fix my hair for a loony ex? Why do people like mirrors? They are too vain for me. If I needed to check my teeth or something important..I tend to stick with old fashion CD backs, but this mirror is important. It belongs to Jana...
Grabbing at my hood, I throw it over my head as I get back in my truck. I reach for the crumpled paper and read the address. I punch the buttons on the truck's GPS. It's not that far away. This new observation is quite unsettling. Jana and I need to move. What if we have kids...I couldn't imagine my kids riding bikes around somewhere, so close to a freak-home.
On second thought, I actually hate kids. They take way more than they will ever give. This is factual from my own experience as a child. I wouldn't even put kids into any scenario of my future thoughts. All the solitude has got my mind going into different places. Places I don't like for them to be.
Jana talked about having kids maybe two times already. If we had some I wouldn't have to be all alone right now. Would that have made it harder or easier now that she's gone....wait I'm not gonna think like that. She will be with me soon enough, it will be like nothing happened.
I pull into the parking garage of the hospital. If the freaks inside somehow have family, I sure as hell know something as creepy as this garage will keep them away. I twist the key out of the ignition and the humming of the engine fades into the darkness. The lighting is very dim inside here, but I can still manage to see writing on the backside of the directions paper. I squint my eyes and stare at the words the cop left for me.
I make my way up into the elevator and press the button for the entrance. It's on the fourth floor. Something tells me that it starts way up there because they don't want their patients to escape. They have four floors to some how capture and shoot their ass with tranquilizer if they try. If they escape from their windows, they will plummet to their deaths.
Then again, I just saw something about inmates escaping from the Chicago prison windows and I'm sure it was from a higher level. I wonder who is kept more confine and watched the crazies or people in prison.
The elevator opens and I walk over to the front counter. The nurse with light orange hair is busy filing some papers. "Sign in with your name, time and person your visiting," fuck I don't really want any evidence left that I was here. I pick up the pen and sign. Bruce Wayne 5:43 pm, Dakota. The nurse shoves the rest of the folders in her hand into a grey cabinet. She stands up straight and looks down at the sign-in sheet. She quirks her eyebrow, "I need to make a copy of your driver's license,"
I'm not taking her out of here why is there so much shit I need to do. I take out my wallet, slide out my driver's license and hand it to her. She reads the information, "Bruce is a nickname for Daniel?" she asks timidly. My eyes trail over to the right hallway as she scans it and hands it back to me. "Go into that room," She points to the room to the right of her. "For inspection," her eyes analyze over the sign in paper. "You're here for Dakota...Trey?"
"Yep," I answer, pushing my wallet back into my tight pocket. Her eyes fixate on my face and it burns. Her lips spread as if she's going to continue talking but I don't have time for it. I walk over to the room and open up the door.
♠ ♠ ♠
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