Roaming Souls

Slight Optimism

It took us three days to leave that dump which is titled as a hospital. Three dreary days.

I almost got used to the routine. Food, IVs, sleep, repeat. As for the TV, which was hung on the wall, Coen told me not to watch it unless he's around. He said it might disorient me or something. Whenever he cones, he usually turns on National Geographic or some channel that solely exists for playing a silly nice show called Tom and Jerry. But that's better than nothing.

The doctors were surprised, still are, really, because of how fast we recovered from the accident. Coen told me not to worry about it, and that he'll explain everythig soon. But he did tell me about this city.

It's a small island, called the Fortress. It used to belong to an billionaire ( It took me a minute to remember what a billionaire was, but it took me a while to understand the amount of money one can have. Those billions), and when he died, he dedicated the island for people with mental issues to live and be treated on. They don't leave them running out and about, of course, but the people I saw where the families of the sick people, people who work in shops and schools and other facilities, or the staff of the grand mental institution here, Palmition mental institution.

Coen and I work there, as I was told. I was given the job even though I am pretty young, because the doctors agreed that I was incredibly smart and practically, a 'prodigy' . That's what they told us Coen the night he brought me to work with him, the same night they hired me .

And now, all my intelligence and gifts are gone with the wind.

Coen managed to get us some new clothes, since the ones we were destroyed in the accident, torn apart by blood, pressure, and the jerks and yanks we had to face at that time.

My outfit consists of a purple plain tee, blue jeans, and yellow sneakers that Coen calls 'Converse'. The outfit is mismatched, but any change is welcomed. I am sick of hospital gowns.

After I'm all dressed up, a nurse escorts both me and Coen down through the infamous elevator into a corridor with floors and walls so shiny, they almost seemed to generate their own light. There was small white counter with people dressed in more white standing behind it.

"Sit on the couch and wait till I am done, sis" Coen said, pointing at a couch with a faded beige colour resting against a table of pure glass and metal. The intire place is too artificial, even the few plants scattered around in black pots appear to be fake. As for this 'sis' of his, Coen explained that we're not siblings, but what else could he tell them? Plus, there is a huge age gap between the two of us, he's older, so what else could I be to him?

What else...

I take a seat and watch as he exchanges a number of yellow, pink, but mostly green papers with the people behind the desk. Several smiles were present here and there, too, apparently forced by the workers. Coen on the other hand, doesn't smile at all, he doesn't work here, after all. Will I have to smile so much when I go back to work? Will I ever go back to work?

Coen turns around, looks at me then walks away. My queue.

We race down through a parking lot, dodging people, here and there, but they weren't so many. A child waved at me, I smiled. There was no staff around to smile at him anyway. When we were just outside the facilities of the hospital, a black, elegant car was parked right in front of the hospital door, and Coen walked towards it with no hesitation.

Maybe he had to move it out of the way because people were blowing their horns like crazy because the car blocked the way. But how did it get there in the first place?

"Oh no" I spoke my first words since the morning after he moved the car out of the road. My voice is raspy.
"there is no way on Earth you're driving me around." And I mean it. 

"Fine, then you can stay here all by yourself. " he responded with a disturbingly toothy grin. What am I to Coen, and what is he to me? Does he work for me?

My lips parted at his words, but no words came out, instead my hair went into my mouth, forced in my the wheezing wind. Shock is all that I could feel at the moment- and also the taste of my hair- but there is no way I'm getting in there with him driving, so, I stiffly fold my hands and glare.

The car moved, and for a moment there, I was really scared, but then the car came back for me, stopped right by my side and the window rolled open

"Come in, it's all okay. No one will follow you. " He uttered, trying to reassure me with an odd method. But still, i have no proof that they won't follow me.

"And what makes you so sure about that?" I ask.

"Remember the print on your hand, the one that I've cut open?" He asked back. I nodded. OF course I remember, my entire memory span consists of such abuse. even if I didn't remember it, I might remember something similar.

"The Lavrah did eject some of her blood into your bloodstream , that's why you were easy to track. And after i did cut it open, the Tainove found you, but he wasn't sure. And none of what happened would've occurred if you just listened and didn't look back." He said, eyeing me in an accusing fashion.

"That is not fair- i mean- how could i ever guess?" I asked, arms flailing around.

"You, in your case, should never guess. Just listen to what i tell you and obey. And what I'm telling you is, get in the car. " He said then rolled the window close. I have no choice then, i guess.

I got in, and slammed the door with attitude. There are a lot of things that i want to ask, but there is one thing that I'd like to state.

"I am not going back to that dump you live in." And that was my request.

"Oh, don't worry about it, we're going to a hotel." He said with a sly smirk, and i wasn't exactly reassured. It did take me sometime to remember what a hotel is.

"What hotel?" I asked, maybe i would be able to recall a name.

"Drocer Moor." He said, giving me one of those looks where he lifts one of his eyebrows and bites on his upper lip. I think he wants me to remember too.

Nope, i was wrong, the name isn't even close to familiar, just like everything else. I slump into my chair and rest my for head against the window. He speeds off quietly.
I stare out of the window and realize that i cant recollect a single memory of anything in this tiny island, and I know for certain that my memory isn't coming back.
Oh, please ignore the slight optimism I indured when i got out of the hospital. It is clear that nothing about this day is reassuring.
But I need to change this sad fact, So i drop a bomb of questions on Coen.

He deserves it.

Hi, sorry for the delay. I had finals. So, yeah. Okay. I don't know what else to add other than i hope you enjoyed this, and, see you in the next chapter