Donovan
There’s this sort of vacant feeling I get every time I wake up. For some odd amount of time I can’t remember what happened the day before or even if that day happened at all. It’s a strange feeling really. It’s almost as if you feel as though you were being reborn or just resetting for the next obstacle that’s coming your way. That sounds good on paper, but when you also regain your memories and knowledge of how fucked up this world can be you quickly understand why most people just don’t get out of bed at all. This wasn’t a time for that though. I woke up from a nightmare into another nightmare. It’s kind of funny when you think about it; dreaming of a terrible experience only for it to follow you outside into the real world.
I steadily raised my head from the pillow to see the crackling paint on my walls finally deciding to wither off. From an angle, it could pass as a piece of modern art. I swung my legs around to touch the more than flattened carpet below my feet and rested my head between my cupped hands. I still couldn’t grasp what exactly happened to me but I quickly remembered the one person that told me to go through with all this shit…Sebastian. How could he have possibly known about this psycho doctor in the middle of the woods? He must’ve had some kind of past interaction with him or something.
“Sebastian…” I muttered. “How did you know?” I finally stand upright and turned towards the door in my bedroom. The walk towards it produced loud unruly creeks followed up by even louder ones as I turned my slightly rusted doorknob. I need a new place.
I dragged myself towards the living room and realized it needed to be cleaned up from the jackets lying along the backrest of the coach to the overflowing dishes in the sink. Although, I’ve realized this about four times now, but I’ll definitely get around to it. In my peripheral, I noticed a glaring light reflecting off of something. After a subtle turn of perspective I noticed it was my family picture. It was an old picture of all of us. My dad, still with my mom at the time, looked extremely fit for a construction worker even with a record of slacking off on the job. My mother looked as vibrant and happy back in those days. Now…well I don’t even call her enough to remember how her voice sounds anymore. Yeah, I’m a shitty son but majority of people grow distant from their parents once they move far enough away from them. Now my brother is a whole different story. I know he periodically keeps in touch with her, just as much as he’s in and out of jail. I’m fairly certain he just calls for bail-out money, but that requires our mom to reach in her retirement fund for his dumbass. This pisses me off more than anything, but not as much as our sister. If you want to talk about the golden child, no one could be more successful than her. A good paying job to support her two children with looks to make any guy bend a knee; she’s a force to compete with. We rarely keep in touch, but when we talk it’s usually just her giving me pep talk about life and how I can overcome this depression deteriorating my soul every damn day. She’s a good girl with good intentions and wisdom that could rival a monk. I appreciate her and what she does for the family. Always being the source of positivity for any recent traumatic moments in all of our lives. Girls like her are rare and whoever the asshole to leave her with the single mother status is passing up on a good opportunity for a better heartwarming future. Yeah, I need to practice what I preach though.
*Knock Knock*
I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. You could probably understand my skepticism to open the door. But the bigger question is what will happen if I don’t. That giant creature I saw in the woods might be back. Or worse, that freak of a doctor could be here. No, that couldn’t be right. He said he would call me when he needs me so that’s out of the question. The only closure to get out of all of this is by opening the door. I finally did, and I received a cascade of understanding for who I saw. It was Sebastian, and he seemed…different.
“Hey. You got a minute?” He said.
“Yeah…I got plenty of time now.” I know he knows. His demeanor is all different now. His aloof nature is replaced with a more rigid and stern characteristic now. Whatever he’s going to say to me has to be pretty significant and horrifying.
He turns away while still keeping eye contact. “Let’s go to Roscoe’s pub. I think he has some specials tonight. We’ll take my car.” I follow him down to his car and noticed how much colder it’s gotten. Chicago can be extremely hazardous during the winter. He opens my side door first and proceeds to get in his side. Before I could even put my seatbelt on, a black jacket flops in my lap. I didn’t even notice it in the backseat.
“You’ll catch a cold man. You know Roscoe’s place is always freezing, even during the summer, hahaha.” He wasn’t wrong. For some reason he likes to keep his pub beyond the freezing point. I’ve speculated that he does that to get most of the customers out faster than normal. Hell, there must be some sort of incentive if you manage to stay there until closing time. And judging by the atmosphere in this car is tremendously heavy; I suspect we’ll be there until then.
He turns the car on while asking me a question. “So you’re probably wondering how I knew about Mr. Plague? Well…it’s a pretty long story Don to begin with.”
“Trust me man, as of now I got plenty time to hear it.”
“It’s a real long story.”
“What do you mean? Actually, how long have you known about this guy? I mean, he must’ve been around this area for a good while now, but for no one to know of him and what he’s been doing all this time…except you. Yeah, I got all day to hear you out. I’m neck deep in this shit now.” I really couldn’t believe the way Sebastian switched up like this. The audacity for him to refuse me immediate explanation is beyond my comprehension. Though, the amount of unprecedented knowledge he’s going to give me seems to be disheartening for him. Sebastian isn’t known for losing face, but right now…he’s every bit remorseful for what’s to come.
After a long ugly silence in the car, we finally arrive to Roscoe’s pub. We both step out simultaneously and a whiff of urine and alcohol grazes my face. That’s the general smell you’ll encounter at this place, especially at this time of night. The ugliest and most scummy people come around here to wash away their glaring issues. Wife beaters, junkies, and cheaters within the American law enforcement happen to come around here and spill their most inappropriate secrets to one another. Then there are guys like us. The “rats”, as what they generally call us. They say we listen in on them for any leads, but in reality we don’t, well I don’t. I come to sip my bottom shelf beer just like everyone else. I got enough worries as it is…especially now. We step inside and got washed with the previous horrendous smell from outside again, but it being even stronger than before. I forget the closer you are to the source, the more prominent it sticks to you. That thinking definitely equates to now.
“Let’s sit at the bar.” Sebastian gestures while subtly looking around. “Less ears to poke and prod around in our business.” It was logical move, but still a silly one to me. There were only two other people in this place. One was a man with a small stature with a look to rival most French coffee drinking connoisseurs. Why he’s inside here drinking bourbon whiskey crying over a Polaroid photograph, I have no idea. The other one was tony. He’s a regular at this place, as depressing as that sounds. He’s a stocky older man with a fixation on big shaggy beards. He tends to drink himself to a puddle of his own piss, but for tonight he seems calmer. I don’t know how well he’s been doing after the passing of his wife but it definitely has taken a toll on his whole life. You can see it. You can smell it.
Sebastian waves down Roscoe. “Hey Ross, just two of your regulars for me and Don here, tabs on me.” Damn right it is. This idiot possibly threw me in the biggest shit storm I’ve ever had to deal with in my life. Sipping on cheap beer won’t clear my head on whatever the hell is coming my way. I’m not like tony. I can’t wallow away like that for the rest of my life. My sister wouldn’t allow it.
Roscoe slid down our beverages and landed perfectly in front of us. It kind of shows how long he’s been doing these kinds of things. He’s a quiet guy that worries mostly about himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s necessarily shy. In actuality, it just shows how perceptive he can be. The silent ones are always well informed, although Sebastian here is a different story. He managed to keep the whole aspect of this crazy witch doctor to himself. He’s known around the office as a big blabber mouth, but this whole situation negates that. He has to be hiding something far bigger than just an informal secret about that guy. Whatever it is, I can tell its eating at him too. He hasn’t looked up from his yet-to-be-sipped beer. I’ll make the first move. I did a quick chug first, and immediately realized some of the beer went down the wrong hole. Without showing a reactive gag, I set my drink back down with considerable noise to warrant attention. Then I asked.
“So first and foremost…how did you get sucked up in all of this as well?”
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