Post by Kaiser Fell on Dec 10, 2009 12:20:25 GMT -5
Derrick opened his eyes.
He knew it was Saturday. What he didn't know is whether it was dark in his room because it was early on Saturday or because it was very late on Saturday. He turned onto his side to look at the alarm clock beside the bed. There was a little red dot beside the numbers '3:16' which meant it was early in the morning. He'd only been asleep for an hour. Derrick let himself fall back onto the mattress; this felt like déjà vu. He laid there just staring at the ceiling. Overhead the fan was still and unmoving. Motionless. Beneath the comforter Derrick was cold. He had the chills again. Minutes passed by and he could hear the clock in the hallway ticking away every minute. Finally he rose - the alarm clock now read '3:22'. Derrick wrapped the blanket around him as he shuffled around the frigid room. A pair of wrinkled jeans laid on the floor. He pulled them up over his hips and a black hoodie over his head. On top of the hooded sweatshirt Derrick tugged on his leather jacket - winter was upon him again and now he wore the warm lining on the inside. Into one pocket went the keys to his apartment and his wallet. The other? His small pistol. As he opened the door to his room Derrick paused to poke his head out, glancing up and down the hallway before exiting. He made sure to lock the door behind him.
This felt familiar and he wasn't sure why as he made his way down the stairwell, the sound of his feet echoing slightly with every step farther and farther in descent. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had done all this before as he reached the ground floor and headed for the lobby, then out the door. Derrick sucked in a sharp breath as the cold air whipped around him fast, stinging his face. The chills worsened and his body shivered down to the marrow of his bones. His piercing blue eyes looked up and down the street before heading down the street. He was hungry and, as expected, he hadn't gone shopping and wasn't in the mood to do it tonight. That required effort and motivation and Derrick had little of that to spare. And it would mean he would have to think - he didn't feel like expending that much energy. He didn't feel like eating either but the voice of reason was strong enough tonight to force him out of his apartment for the hunt and gather. A few people passed him as he walked but he didn't pay them any mind, and they didn't pay him any in return.
As he ambled down the sidewalk, head bent down into the warm lining of his leather jacket, his eyes darted upwards to look at the stars - of which there were none. They didn't exist in the city. Derrick tried to remember the last time he'd seen a clear sky but couldn't. More déjà vu. More feelings of familiarity. A chill went down his spine and again his body shook from the cold while the hunger gnawed away at his stomach in powerful churns. When had he last eaten? Not today. He'd opted out of lunch at work because someone had been having a birthday and he didn't want to be near the festivities. He'd skipped dinner last night because he'd been wrapped around the porcelain base of the toliet with dry heaves. Dry heaves because he hadn't eaten that day either. Food would be a good idea. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, careful to keep his fingers away from the trigger of the gun, his gaze fell away from the dark navy of the early morning sky. Only to crumble as his blue eyes leveled on a familiar yellow sign. Denny's.
It all hit him hard then. The waking to chills, the time on the clock. Hell, this was even the same pair of jeans he'd worn that night seven months ago. Derrick's hands fisted unconsciously in his pockets, suddenly numb to the frigid air. Stubble graced jaw locked and grief stole into his eyes. The Knight of the Sad Countenance stared silently at the bench where his life had begun to change. Where things had begun to look up before falling apart again. Where he had met her.
Ambrosia.
His throat was thick and he couldn't speak, not that he had anything to say or anyone to say it to. Instead he slowly crossed to the bench, basking in the glow from the restaurant windows, walking with a slight stumble like he was almost drunk. At every crisis the Kaiser fell, and now he fell onto the hard, cold wood. Collapsing and resting his weight onto it before burying his face in a hand. The other grasped the gun tightly - he could end his misery now, here where he had felt a note of happiness. He could leave clinging to that happy memory and not look back again. Could he bring himself to do that?
Derrick shivered.
Tonight he had it in him. Tonight he could. The Denny's parking lot was empty but for a few cars parked at the far end - employees. It was a weekday and a slow night. No one was around to notice as he drew the gun from his pocket then passed it from one hand to the other in brief contemplation before cocking it. No one would miss him. No one would notice. Another shiver.
Tonight he had it in him.
Tonight he could.
He knew it was Saturday. What he didn't know is whether it was dark in his room because it was early on Saturday or because it was very late on Saturday. He turned onto his side to look at the alarm clock beside the bed. There was a little red dot beside the numbers '3:16' which meant it was early in the morning. He'd only been asleep for an hour. Derrick let himself fall back onto the mattress; this felt like déjà vu. He laid there just staring at the ceiling. Overhead the fan was still and unmoving. Motionless. Beneath the comforter Derrick was cold. He had the chills again. Minutes passed by and he could hear the clock in the hallway ticking away every minute. Finally he rose - the alarm clock now read '3:22'. Derrick wrapped the blanket around him as he shuffled around the frigid room. A pair of wrinkled jeans laid on the floor. He pulled them up over his hips and a black hoodie over his head. On top of the hooded sweatshirt Derrick tugged on his leather jacket - winter was upon him again and now he wore the warm lining on the inside. Into one pocket went the keys to his apartment and his wallet. The other? His small pistol. As he opened the door to his room Derrick paused to poke his head out, glancing up and down the hallway before exiting. He made sure to lock the door behind him.
This felt familiar and he wasn't sure why as he made his way down the stairwell, the sound of his feet echoing slightly with every step farther and farther in descent. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had done all this before as he reached the ground floor and headed for the lobby, then out the door. Derrick sucked in a sharp breath as the cold air whipped around him fast, stinging his face. The chills worsened and his body shivered down to the marrow of his bones. His piercing blue eyes looked up and down the street before heading down the street. He was hungry and, as expected, he hadn't gone shopping and wasn't in the mood to do it tonight. That required effort and motivation and Derrick had little of that to spare. And it would mean he would have to think - he didn't feel like expending that much energy. He didn't feel like eating either but the voice of reason was strong enough tonight to force him out of his apartment for the hunt and gather. A few people passed him as he walked but he didn't pay them any mind, and they didn't pay him any in return.
As he ambled down the sidewalk, head bent down into the warm lining of his leather jacket, his eyes darted upwards to look at the stars - of which there were none. They didn't exist in the city. Derrick tried to remember the last time he'd seen a clear sky but couldn't. More déjà vu. More feelings of familiarity. A chill went down his spine and again his body shook from the cold while the hunger gnawed away at his stomach in powerful churns. When had he last eaten? Not today. He'd opted out of lunch at work because someone had been having a birthday and he didn't want to be near the festivities. He'd skipped dinner last night because he'd been wrapped around the porcelain base of the toliet with dry heaves. Dry heaves because he hadn't eaten that day either. Food would be a good idea. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, careful to keep his fingers away from the trigger of the gun, his gaze fell away from the dark navy of the early morning sky. Only to crumble as his blue eyes leveled on a familiar yellow sign. Denny's.
It all hit him hard then. The waking to chills, the time on the clock. Hell, this was even the same pair of jeans he'd worn that night seven months ago. Derrick's hands fisted unconsciously in his pockets, suddenly numb to the frigid air. Stubble graced jaw locked and grief stole into his eyes. The Knight of the Sad Countenance stared silently at the bench where his life had begun to change. Where things had begun to look up before falling apart again. Where he had met her.
Ambrosia.
His throat was thick and he couldn't speak, not that he had anything to say or anyone to say it to. Instead he slowly crossed to the bench, basking in the glow from the restaurant windows, walking with a slight stumble like he was almost drunk. At every crisis the Kaiser fell, and now he fell onto the hard, cold wood. Collapsing and resting his weight onto it before burying his face in a hand. The other grasped the gun tightly - he could end his misery now, here where he had felt a note of happiness. He could leave clinging to that happy memory and not look back again. Could he bring himself to do that?
Derrick shivered.
Tonight he had it in him. Tonight he could. The Denny's parking lot was empty but for a few cars parked at the far end - employees. It was a weekday and a slow night. No one was around to notice as he drew the gun from his pocket then passed it from one hand to the other in brief contemplation before cocking it. No one would miss him. No one would notice. Another shiver.
Tonight he had it in him.
Tonight he could.
