Waking up on a tiled bathroom floor with confirmed evidence of being being injected from an I.V. never was good symbolism for a relaxing or simple day. Leigh Wilson had never understood exac...
The moon gave a ghostly light through the only admittance it could find, an open window. Sending the shadows spiraling around each other in a ballet that the human eye could never completely see or in their brightest moment understand. A shaky hand slid across a wall's surface in search of something sliding up and down the cold wall before reaching it's destination and flipping the switch. The dancers withdrew for a more private location in a tenth of a second the darkness had ran in terror of the night and flew out the window to a safer dwelling and no interference to the music only heard by shadows.
Leigh Wilson scrutinized the mirror for a second as if thoroughly taken a back by what the reflective glass had in store for a presentation. He could never remember being so sure as he was that that ghostly return of a scrutiny was not- could not be his own. Surely Oz was reached through a gateway of mirrors. He just never noticed this fact before; now it seemed to give him an all too real you've just transferred to another dimension appeal to his face.
Drowsy and lazy as his had-to-be mimicker's eyes no doubt were. He knew for a fact his crisp, reasonably sharp when it came to giving gazes, and had a whip like tendency when he snapped them between object of interest or appeal. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the mirror image eyes; obviously the mimicker held veils of confusion through the livid aqua tone of his irises. A gentle throbbing broke the recollection of self image session.
Odd and frightening as it had to be he was unable to shove his memory around enough so he was able to remember where that gauze strip that covered his for arm appendix came from, he fought the realization that it disclosed an I.V. entry point the best he could before finally giving in and accepting it as fact. He grazed the gauze as gingerly as possible with the tip of his forefinger. Whatever hope he had that it was a sleep depraved or stress induced hallucination was mercilessly shattered like any simple glass bowl would be slammed against the cement on contact with the gauze strand. He plucked at the threading wearily before giving free reign to his imagination on not only the meaning of how it's there but why. He double checked his shoulder in hopes of finding any hint of reason or explanation. Sighing grievously at an open window allow his mind's eye to play the scene out perfectly. It fit perfectly to assume that one of them decided that they could be of better use to this world if not wasted on a poor fool that wakes up from random episodes of unconscious behavior on a tiled bathroom floor and ran out the window making the best leap of faith imaginable. One would leave (probably reason it usually does give out first) and the other one, devil be damned! Is a deviant non-lingerer without his comrade to the last and quickly followed suite. He chuckled at the comedic metaphor of flight of reason or explanation he had every right to it was the only hint of their presence at the room.
He secured his elbows on the sinks edge before lamenting the loss of his faithful friends. The silence around him was haunting, eerie he questioned if he was the only person left, perhaps the rapture occurred, and his friends didn't forsake him in entirety, just fly off with wings of gold and a silver. Squeezing his eyes tight and using all of his brain and conscience that wasn't enslaved by confusion and wished for this scene to disappear as easily as it came, for the gauze to magically pop out of existence and him to wake with a stir and only blurred remembrance of a nightmare gone awry. If it was at all hear it didn't receive the grace that on answer might bring. He lowered his head deeper into defeat, his hands striving through his thick brown hair before confronting what he had no choice but to call his own reflection. Either he was imagining good in a completely hopeless situation, or his eyes seemed a bit more alert than the image that he was sure would haunt his deepest memories with recognition of this awful night and his once refused reflection.
Surely anyone with a bit of his lost friend reason would agree he didn't need any form of reminding that somehow he was injected by an I.V. But there it was, as bold as ever sending ache through his arms as is his nerves wanted to object to the liquid that had intruded on their once hospitable passage way around the body. He ripped the gauze away with as much force as he wished the memory would go the tape objecting with the zing and his hair objecting with it. He tossed the gauze to a trash can. That's what we all need, he thought sourly to be able to throw away loss memories when we're down learning from them. He felt he still had volumes to learn from this episode so he glanced down at the intrusion point on his arm. It was certainly done right, this wasn't a beginner's attempt to break skin, a skilled hand plucked it into him before slamming whatever god awful liquid now called his blood stream home.
Pausing to rest his back against the wall the door quietly opened Leigh had his suspicions confirmed that this was a public bathroom and relieved in knowing two facts that, either the rapture did not occur or he wasn't the only sinner left to rot, with this knowledge he felt assured at least in slight that he could not have been in a passionate kiss with the bathroom tile for long relieving a sigh with no effect to dispose of the confusion that seemed to narrow every act his body did or think. He raised his head to the ceiling again. The man stopped at the sight of him, as if his condition of appearance to this man was as great as an impeding steam rolled train catching the man in the bright light and suffering from a lost of hearing or control that only fear can hold claim to. The man obviously once again gaining the reign of control over his self smiled weakly before shuffling into a stall and closing the door as quick as possible without seeming rude. He didn't blame him.. he had seen his reflection in the mirror, and he gave the man credit for not flailing out with his hands over his head in screams of ghosts, goblins, and such nonsense. Feeling that to conserve his strength was best he cut the ropes that were holding his head up inside of himself and allowed it to fall back against the wall with a dull thunk slamming his eyelids shut at the bold assumption that the tiles would cushion his head. The man quietly opened the door and Leigh finally got a look at him, late 50's with a waxy skin complexion that suggested a lifestyle of medical trouble, he wore polite chinos and a nicely made sweater.
Opening the door slightly just to see if he was there, Leigh saw his shoes first and though this man was obviously afraid of him, and who wouldn't be, this world had opened its arms valiantly to hell, and god only knew what opened the door and settled. The man attempted a warm smile, but it appeared to fall from room temperature as he was obviously frightened of him. He walked to the sink to wash his hands taking his time about it before wiping them dry with a wad of paper complimentary of a dispenser 3 inches above the sink tossing it he turned to Leigh.
"Excuse me, sir, ar- wh----" the man bit his tongue and concentrated to shove the perplexing emotions away from his speech ability in his mind and politely asked. "Are you okay?"
Leigh could only nod vaguely before his own attempt at speech which seemed worse for the wear but got his point across rightfully enough. "Yeah.. just.. long night, where are we?" Seeing that this man wasn't going to savage his throat with his teeth at communication he relaxed and allowed his back to leave the forced arc stand.
"Hotel Ralizzo, on 23rd street." He was more concerned than afraid for this man now he didn't look the part of a bum.. Well dressed khakis with a work button up shirt and though he looked as if he had fought back troubles in the last hour that only he could fully understand he did not as he did at first, appear to be snarling in his corner as his over exaggerative mind had led him to believe.
"In Seattle.. right?" He asked, knowing how absurd the question would sound but he needed to know..
"Yes.. of course." the reply from his man was cold and withdrawn and they both turned to look out the window that swayed pathetically in the wind before retrieving their senses and turning to face each other again. the man raised his eyebrow and inquired before reaching into his pocket and fished out a cell phone.. "I'll just call a doctor, you should be fine.."
"No.. no.. I'm alright, just...." His quick thinking had been a loss on him and he was sure if he hadn't been attacked by whatever, he would do himself more pride with a better answer, but he didn't. "I'm diabetic, you see, and I came in here feeling the withdrawals and when I reached for my insulin, I only then remembered I had left it in my coat pocket, that is in my room."
Of course the old man didn't believe this but he really saw no point and didn't want to cause trouble for this man so he quietly extended a helping hand. "Rand Emers." He politely smiled.