Book #2 of Girl of Mine ✑
1957. It's the things you thought were yours. It's the lack of control and how you ought to make the most of what you have. Love for yourself or passed loves. There isn't a way to take hold of carried feelings, the actions...
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* chapter music * _____________________________
This chapter includes a belonging soundtrack announced further into the chapter. The chapter was written with this song in mind—setting the mood.
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Elvis POV
The 23rd of August, 1957
«Didn't you have a jacket?» A frown had shown up, taking up my face. With the most white and thin fabricated closet doors open, one seemed to have it out for my shoulder as I kept it from shutting. I saw the few cloth hangers the hospital offered its patients. Only a couple were taken up — by one sweatshirt, a cardigan, and a dress of Sal's that my Mama brought from Graceland. The left side of the closet had shelves holding a box that must be the one Eric mentioned that held the things saved from the wreckage. And a white bag that I guessed had some of Sal's things, too.
«I'm sure I did, but to be quite frank, it wasn't the first thing on my mind to keep track of after I got out of the car—I was rather busy tracking my percentage of staying alive,» Sal said bluntly.
A prolonged smile would linger on my lips, all through parting them. «I saw your mom writing away in one of the crossword books I got her—so at least we would have known that she had enough 'til you were crossed out.» Sal hummed in response and let out a short cackle as I got out the white bag, snooping into it to see clothes with a substantial amount of sand driven all over the surfaces—including the sky-blue jacket I'd gotten her. It prided itself on not just dusty particles but drops of blood.
Only a part of the blueish material moved with my hand as I noticed its safe-to-say death—cut up into pieces.
Sights of her being brought in in a throbbing and flashing ambulance showed, cutting her out of her clothes to keep her from moving—not to risk further damage. The height of recent fears made its comeback, 'til my mind understood that losing her didn't happen and I hadn't even seen the ambulance. My mind just adored conjuring up unneeded unreal memories.
«You better wear mine,» I exclaimed wide-eyed as I looked past my shoulders to see Sal sitting at the edge of the bed. I noticed black leather hung over and displayed on the chair beside the bed. Dripping water from dark curls, yellow, and my distressed eyes gazing at her came rushing in—this time being a real memory from one year ago. I praised myself lucky—because the truth of getting her home in my jacket would, too, be reality.
«Well, damn.» She uttered, having me nod in agreement as I dropped the blue piece of cloth into the bag again. She'd gotten to walk a few steps since yesterday, getting ready to be let out of here. What remained was packing up, getting her ready, and getting through a talk with the police to take her rapport.
