Forever - Means - Forever

This Bird Doesn't Sing Anymore

I walked down the cracked sideways of the neighborhood me and Sabrina live in. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood. You know Gotham and Metropolis from DC universe? Well, this would be Gotham. I was heading towards the hospital. The two-story crap-hole of a hospital. They'd be releasing Sabrina the next day. Her memories of me were nonexistent, and they thought a lifestyle with me would help trigger them. Yesterday I joined a support group, sharing my story, as Sabrina's doctor suggested. It didn't make me feel any better, just remind me of the reason I loved her. Love her. I still do. And with me reminded, it just depresses me more that she couldn't remember. Not a thing. It made me ponder what she actually did remember. Nothing? I wanted her memory to return. Heck, sobad. But only time would tell. I walked up the steps to the hospital from the parking lot, then entered the building through the wrong door. I was a procrastinator. Despite the door on the left reading 'No entrance', I barged through it instead of going through the 'enter'

"I'm here to see Sabrina." I told the front desk. The nurse that sat in front of me didn't looking very appealing. She spoke like she was annoyed and had an expression like she just smelled something bad.

"Sabrina who?" She snapped with a long, dragged out croaky voice. You know that older snail chick on Monsters Inc who was completely miserable? The human version of her on point.

"Sabrina Kyles." I spoke, furrowing my eyebrows towards her. "Look, I come in here everyday. Surely you remember me..-?"

"You got something wrong?" The woman spoke sarcastically. She took the end of her pen, motioning towards her own eyebrows. Ugh.

"Can you just let me see my wife, please?" I practically begged, placing my hands on the edge of the desk.

"Ah, your wife, Huh?" She hummed, flipping through random documents to irritate me. "Don't see any dikes here."

"Listen, you little bitch!" I shouted, pounding my fist once against the glass between us. It was thin. Some part of me wishes I could shatter it and stab that fucking pencil into her neck. She didn't seem scared, more amused to my reaction. Fuck. I was holding myself back from something I'd surely regret.

"I think I may have found your document." She opened a file. I swelled with relief. "Room 131. Floor 2." The receptionist provided. That wasn't the room I went to yesterday. "They had her transferred. A kid with a string fracture had to take her place." She explained, setting the file down. She had this smug smile on that made me feel uneasy.

"Bitch." I muttered, making my way to the elevator. I entered, pressing the button for level 2. There was only G and 2 after all. I headed down the long hall after exiting the elevator, soon reaching the door number given to me. I took a deep breath before entering the room, pressing open the door. A doctor was conducting a prostate exam on an overweight male. Holy fucking shit. "I'm going to kill her." I repeated over and over again, and before they could turn around, I fled from the room. The receptionist was the only employee on the ground floor due to lack of staff. I raced down the stairs. I pulled a handgun from my pocket, aiming towards the glass at the desk. She still sat at her desk, not paying attention to me. Well, not noticing me yet. I pulled the trigger, glass shattering. My gun had a silencer. The woman screamed. The sound of her scream filled my lungs with pleasure. I was right up to the desk now. I slid over to her side, watching as she looked up to me. She swallowed. Something in me snapped. The on button was just clicked just over a thousand times in that one second.

"Sorry. The patients just looked so alike, I--" I shot her in the rib cage. There was something seriously wrong with this woman. Perhaps a Chemical imbalance. She was crying. The next bullet landed to her skull. I held the gun with both hands, continuing to unload fire to her lifeless body. My attire was drenched with red.

"This little bitch doesn't sing anymore." I referred to myself, tucking the gun into my pocket.