Tell Me I'm Different (Finished!)

(12) Leave Me [Part 1]

Ace opened his heavy eyelids to the sound of a horse’s neigh. It smelled like pancakes and…. animals. What the hell? What time was it anyway? He searched to his left for the alarm clock that was usually on his nightstand next to his bottle of Xantax, but his alarm clock wasn’t there. And neither was his nightstand. In its usual place was a small wooden table and chair with an old red telephone on top. Where was he? He jolted upright and was greeted by a sharp pang of pain in his head. He groaned and shut his eyelids. What the hell was going on?

“Shh, darling. Take it easy,” said a gentle voice that sounded like it came from someone right in front of him.

He let go of his head and opened his eyes.

It was the angel he vaguely remembered from the night before.

A woman with a glass of water stood in front of him. A look of concern manipulated her aging face. She smiled at him when she saw his confused expression. Her skin creased near her eyelids and thin wrinkles formed around her mouth, but Ace could tell she once had been beautiful.

“Where am I?” he asked in a hoarse voice as he accepted the glass of water. His eyes searched her suspiciously.

He sipped it and it instantly soothed his dry, scratchy throat.

“You don’t remember what happened last night?” she asked. Her brows furrowed as she studied him once more. She dried her wet hands on the back of her worn out light blue jeans before sitting down on the wooden chair in front of his bed.

Ace thought hard about how he got here. The last thing he remembered was seeing Jared and Trixie after that, nothing.

“No, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what’s going on. Has something happened to me?” he asked, his voice suddenly rising to a state of panic.

“Me and my husband found you lying next to Betsy. You looked ill so we took you inside and you fell asleep for about let see..” she looked at her gold wristwatch, “forty-five hours and thirty-six minutes,” she said with a tint of a southern accent.

“Holy shit!” Ace exclaimed before rising to his feet and nearly falling over. His head felt too light and his limbs felt too weak.

“Careful, hun! Anthony!” she yelled as she fought to steady Ace.

A moment later, a tall man with a thick, dark beard appeared next to him. Ace didn’t even see him come in. It was like he was a ghost who just appeared from nowhere. His arms reminded Ace of two eighteen wheelers. They were huge and quite visible from his torn white shirt. He loomed over his wife and even over Ace who was considered pretty tall. He looked like a brick wall. Anthony gently, but firmly pushed Ace back on the flimsy wooden bed.

“Son, you should take it easy,” he said in a deep voice.

Ace complied and sat down.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast,” said the woman. She nodded at him and drew her white blonde hair into a loose ponytail before walking out of the room. Anthony crossed his thick arms around his chest and drummed his heavy fingers against his grass-stained shirt before following the woman out of the small room.

Ace searched his pockets for his cellphone, but instead of denim he felt a soft fleece on his hands. He looked down and saw that he was wearing red fleece pajamas and a plain black shirt. Definetly not what he last remembered putting on.

“Um, where are my clothes?” he called out loud enough so the woman could here.

“Oh, they were all gross so Anthony helped you change into some of my sons outfits,” she replied.